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Jules  Perrot  and  Carlo+ta  GrisI  in  La  Esmeralda,  London,  1844, 


(Collection:  George  Chaffee) 


'€mee 


LINCOLN  KIRSTEIN 
DONALD  WINDHAM 


Jules  Joseph  Perrot  was  to  the  Romantic 
Ballet  what  Vestris-Dauberval  represent  in 
the  18th  centurv  ballet  and  what  Nijinsky- 
Fokine  stand  for  in  modern  history.  He  was 
at  once  its  greatest  virtuosic  danseur  of  aca- 
demic perfection  of  technique  and  its  most 
original  choreographer  rolled  into  one. 

Today,  two  full  generations  since  Perrot 
passed  from  the  scene  and  a full  century 
after  his  greatest  decade  on  the  stage  as  a 
dancer-choreographer,  nothing  the  least  mus- 
ty or  merely  antiquarian  attaches  to  his 
name.  He  still  lives  on  in  the  ballet  world, 
his  electrifying  touch  a perennially  vital  in- 
fluence, and  his  high  ideals  shine  to  reproach 
the  trivial  and  debased  in  his  art. 

The  co-creator  of  “Giselle,”  still  the  won- 
der and  delight  of  the  whole  ballet  world, 
and  probably  the  chief  designer  of  that  work 
as  it  has  reached  us  again  today  via  Russia — 
the  original  tailor  of  the  “Pas  de  Quatre,”  of 
which  a modern  version  in  the  spirit  and 
manner  of  the  original  is  now  danced — and 
the  choreographer  of  various  ballets  surviv- 
ing in  Russian  repertories,  as  Esmeralda,  that 
ought  to  be  ably  and  authoritatively  (and 
not  vaguely  and  weakly)  mounted  in  Amer- 
ica— Perrot’s  name  and  works  are  familiar 
to  the  dance  world  of  the  1940’s  and  its  pro- 


gram notes  as  they  were  in  the  1840’s. 

Yury  Slonimsky  approaches  Perrot  as  a 
modern  problem  and  challenge  in  the  art  of 
ballet.  His  remarkable  study  was  the  first 
serious  biography  and  critical  appreciation 
of  Perrot  and  the  aesthetics  of  his  choreo- 
graphic compositions  to  appear  in  any  lan- 
guage. Nothing  that  has  since  appeared  any- 
where has  in  the  least  lessened  its  intrinsic 
worth  and  engrossing  interest.  The  essay  is 
unique.  In  translating  this  Russian  treatise 
into  our  language,  Anatole  Chujoy  has  made 
a major  contribution  to  our  dance  literature. 

In  America,  Slonimsky’s  politics  are  his 
own  affair.  Where,  as  is  widely  customary  in 
Europe,  there  are  State  Theatres  and  Opera 
Houses,  and  a State  Ballet,  politics  and  aes- 
thetics are  naturally  intertwined.  But  it  is 
not  difficult  to  separate  the  two  in  Slonim- 
sky’s essay  and  to  concentrate  on  what  is  of 
general  validity  to  an  art.  His  politics  need 
neither  commend  nor  disqualify  him  for  his 
task  immediately  and  primarily  in  hand,  any 
more  than  Bach’s  religion  necessarily  enters 
into  a just  and  discriminating  estimate  of  the 
art  of  his  B-minor  Mass,  or  the  ethics  of  Val- 
halla into  the  art  of  The  Ring. 

George  Cii.^ffee 


COVER:  George  Chaffee  holding  two  Perrot  items  from  his  collection;  above,  a Viennesse  porcelain 
of  Perrot  and  Fanny  Elssler  in  Delire  D'un  Pein+re  (1844)  and  below  a French  carnet  de  bal  of 
Perrot  and  Grisi  in  La  Polka.  (1843)  Photograph  by  Gerda  Peterich. 

Subscription  $5.00  a year:  THIS  ISSUE  $1.00  A COPY 

Copyright  1945  by  Dance  Index-Ballet  Caravan  Inc.,  130  West  56  St.,  New  York  19,  N.  Y. 
Vol.  IV,  No.  12,  December  1945 


'franslated  jrom  the  Russian  by  Anatole  Chujoy 


Names  of  artists  in  times  past  are  again  Inought 
back  to  life  or  fall  into  the  abyss  of  oblivion, 
depending  on  whether  their  practical  activities 
during  their  own  period  hold  an  echo  for  another 
period,  whether  their  viewpoints  harmonize  with 
new  opinions  and  tastes.  The  pre-revolutionary 
history  of  ballet  so  thoroughly  shrouds  the  names 
of  many  masters  of  choreography  as  to  make  it 
doubtful  whether  these  names  are  now  of  any 
interest  at  all. 

'I’he  bourgeois  chronicles  of  ballet  have  passed 
Jean  Dauberval,  Jules  Perrot,  Lev  Ivanoff  by  at 
the  same  time  that  they  have  exaggerated  the 
importance  of  Coralli,  Mazilier,  and  many  others. 
I'hat  is  why  we  are  forced  to  treat  their  lavish 
praises  with  serious  doubt  and  distrust.  The  dis- 
tortion of  historic  reality  in  ballet  literature, 
mostly  written  by  dilletantes,  has  assumed  mon- 
strous proportions. 

In  the  repertories  of  our  ballet  theatres  there 
are  still  several  compositions  which  have  had  a 
century  and  a half  of  stage  life.  But  it  is  useless 
to  look  for  the  name  of  Jules  Perrot  among  the 
ballet  masters  on  the  programs.  It  has  long  since 
been  forgotten.  Few  now  know  that  the  ever 
youthful  force  and  influence  of  Giselle,  the  pulsa- 
ting interest  of  Esmeralda  (which  had  been  cut  to 
shreds  by  the  censors),  and  the  praise  for  Le 
Corsaire,  are  closely  connected  with  the  name  of 
Jules  Perrot  and  his  original  choreographic  pro- 
gram. 

Perrot  was  born  in  June,  1810.  He  was  a de- 
scendent  of  a theatrical  family.  His  father  was  a 
stage  machinist  in  the  Lyon  theatres. 

In  contradistinction  to  all  other  dancers,  Perrot 
went  through  an  unusual  school.  At  the  age  of 
eight  he  began  with  exercises  at  the  barre  (the 
first  step  in  the  study  of  the  ballet  technique). 


and  he  continued  this  until  he  was  eighteen.  But 
according  to  Perrot’s  biographers,  he  also  “was 
a Polichinelle  for  two  or  three  years  and  he  im- 
personated a monkey  in  a circus  for  another  two 
years.”  ( 1 ) These  first  steps  in  his  artistic  career 
reflected  on  the  peculiarity  of  Perrot's  artistic 
style  and  predetermined  his  entire  artistic  direc- 
tion. 

When  Perrot  was  a boy,  the  name  of  Mazurier, 
acrobat,  dancer,  and  famous  comedian,  rang  all 
over  France.  “His  success  was  indescribable. 
Crowds  of  spectators  rushed  to  see  this  wonder. 
Not  only  that;  parents  used  to  buy  toy  clowns 
for  their  children;  many  store  signs  and  fashion- 
able nicknacks  were  decorated  with  the  portrait 
and  inscribed  with  the  name  of  this  masquerade 
figure,  and  one  small  theatre  after  another  bur- 
lesqued this  hero  of  the  day.”  (2) 

“The  young  Perrot  decided  to  learn  Mazurier’s 
secrets.  He  made  such  a thorough  study  of  him 
that  in  a short  time  he  was  able  to  imitate  the 
gestures,  poses,  gait,  movements,  and  tricks  of 
this  Polichinelle.”  ( 3 ) Then  the  twelve-year-old 
Perrot  put  on  a costume  of  a double-humpbacked 
Polichinelle  and  ventured  to  ape  Mazurier.  The 
Lyon  audiences  hailed  the  brilliant  success  of  the 
stripling  in  competition  with  the  recognized  public 
idol. 

“Mazurier  performed  in  the  Porte  St.  Martin 
1 heatre  in  Paris.  The  Gaite  Theatre  brought 
the  very  young  Polichinelle  from  Lyon  to  com- 
pete with  the  Vampire  (Mazurier's  role)  of  the 
neighboring  house.  It  offered  its  audiences  a 
Polichinelle  who,  like  the  Prophet  Jonah,  was 
swallowed  by  a whale.  This  supple  youth  subse- 
quently became  the  famous  dancer  and  ballet 
master  Jules  Perrot. ”(4) 

Shortly  after  he  changed  .his  mimo-acrobatic 


208 


role  of  Polifhinelle  for  the  acrobatic-dancing  part 
of  a monkey,  again  challenging  Mazurier,  then 
attracting  all  Paris  to  the  Porte  St.  Martin  Thea- 
tre with  “the  jumps  and  agonizings”  of  the  monkey 
Jocko  in  an  excellent  pantomime  of  that  time. 

In  short  order  Perrot  conquered  “half  of  Ma- 
zurier’s  empire”  with  his  performance  of  the  role 
of  a monkey  in  various  pantomimic-dancing  plays. 
In  a Directory  of  actors  in  Paris  for  the  year 
1827  we  find  the  name  of  Perrot  followed  by  a 
laudatory  description.  He  is  already  the  Premier 
of  the  Porte  St.  Martin  Theatre  and  at  the  pin- 
nacle of  fame.  As  Mazurier  had  died  by  then, 
“all  Mazurier’s  empire  is  at  his  feet.” 

Perrot’s  victor^’  in  the  dancing-acrobatic  pan- 
tomime was  made  the  easier  because  he  was  pre- 
paring himself  simultaneously  for  another  specialty. 

Perrot,  recognized  by  all  Paris  as  the  outstand- 
ing artist-acrobat,  diligently  studied  dancing  in 
the  Master  Class  of  August  Vestris,  that  aged 
world-famous  dancer  of  the  18th  century,  with 
whom  only  a few  select  pupils  were  permitted  to 
work. 

A classmate  of  Perrot,  Auguste  Bournonville, 
wrote  down  in  his  Memoirs  a few  lines  describ- 
ing the  individual  traits  of  Perrot  the  dancer. 
He  was  short  of  stature  and  of  unusual  build. 
Vestris  “took  into  consideration  his  unattractive 
appearance  and  forbade  him  to  assume  pictur- 
esque poses.  ‘Jump  about  from  place  to  place — 
turn — spin — fly  up — but  never  give  the  public 
time  to  examine  closely  your  person’.”  With  these 
words  the  master  created  the  “genre  Perrot,”  i.e., 
the  style  of  “ ‘a  zephyr  with  the  wings  of  a bat,’ 
a restless  being  of  indescribable  lightness  and  sup- 
pleness, with  an  almost  phosphorescent  bril- 
liance.” (5) 

From  this  teacher  Perrot  received  the  heritage 
of  the  entire  technique  of  the  masculine  dance 
which  at  the  turn  of  the  two  centuries  was  still 
dominating  the  ballet  stage  and  eclipsing  the  fem- 
inine dance. 

But  Perrot  did  not  become  a slave  to  the  tradi- 
tions which  placed  virtuosity  and  technicism  at 
the  tip  of  the  scale.  This  was  thanks  chiefly  to 
his  first  profession.  The  fact  that  he  had  been  a 
Polichinelle,  one  of  the  central  figures  in  panto- 
mimes, an  acrobat  performing  the  role  of  a mon- 
key, jumper,  a tight-rope  walker,  and  an  actor, 
undoubtedly  left  its  imprint  on  Perrot,  the  dancer 
and  ballet  master.  In  the  mechanics  of  the  spatial, 


leaping  and  brilliantly  broad  dance  of  the  circus 
arena,  technical  difficulties  had  to  be  hidden  at 
all  cost.  They  had  to  be  fused  into  an  art  of  un- 
constrained, expressive  and  play-like  movement. 
It  was  this  demand  of  the  circus  and  of  the  trestles 
that  Perrot  had  mastered. 

In  May,  1830,  the  habitues  of  the  Royal  Acad- 
emy of  Music  and  of  Dance  were  amazed  by  a 
sensational  novelty.  Perrot,  the  winner  over  Ma- 
zurier, the  acrobat  and  jumper,  presumed  to  make 
his  debut  as  a classic  dancer  on  the  stage  of  the 
Opera. 

His  very  first  performance  created  a sensation. 
“General  surprise.  No  one  thought  that  so  re- 
markable a talent  of  such  an  unusual  and  new 
character  as  the  debutant  possessed,  could  e.xist 
outside  our  Opera,”  said  Paris  reviewers. 

Perrot  shared  his  first  balletic  victories  with  the 
famous  Marie  Taglioni.  “They  fully  correspond 
to  each  other.  ...  In  the  dance,  Perrot  is  a bro- 
ther of  Taglioni.  ...  It  looked  as  though  one 
breath  swayed  them,  as  though  in  a single  gust, 
in  one  rush,  they  soared  into  the  air.  Perrot  flew 
around  her  like  a balloon,”  writes  an  eye-wit- 
ness. (6 ) 

Perrot’s  debuts  at  the  Opera  took  place  under 
unfavorable  conditions.  The  year  1830  was  the  be- 
ginning of  the  flowering  of  Romantic  art.  This 
brought  into  ballet  the  victory  of  the  feminine 
dance  and  of  the  woman  as  the  heroine  of  the 
choreographic  show. 

“When  Perrot  first  appeared  in  the  theatre,  the 
masculine  dance  was  coming  to  naught.  People 
talked  about  it  only  as  about  a funny  recollection. 
Vestris,  Gardel,  had  already  become  comic  heroes. 
One  had  to  have  courage  to  follow  in  the  steps  of 
these  aged  and  vanquished  gods  . . .,”  notes  Per- 
rot’s biographer,  E.  Briffault.  ( 7 ) Nevertheless, 
“Perrot  triumphed.  . . . He  overcame  the  scorn, 
v.-e  would  even  say  the  repugnance,  felt  toward 
the  masculine  dance.” (8) 

Gautier,  who  gave  a vivid  satiric  portrait  of  a 
man  dancing  on  the  stage,  and  his  friend,  Charles 
de  Boigne,  who,  like  all  representatives  of  Roman- 
tic art,  shared  an  antipathy  toward  male  dancers, 
both  lavished  praise  on  Perrot  as  a dancer. 

How  did  Perrot  succeed  in  becoming  “the  last 
male  dancer  who  was  forgiven  that  he  danced?” 
(9)  What  made  Theophile  Gautier  forget  his 
malicious  jokes  about  stupid  male  dancers?  (10) 
Perrot’s  biographer,  perhaps  not  suspecting  it,  an- 


209 


swered  this  question.  “He  destroyed  the  comical 
tradition  of  pirouettes  and  other  pretentious  pas. 
The  scope  of  his  movements  always  contained  the 
choreographic  language,  the  dialect  of  all  emo- 
tions, all  dreams,  the  poetry  of  bodily  movement, 
strength  combined  with  grace,  based  on  ins))ira- 
tion.  . . . He  is  not  a dancer,  he  is  a man  who 
acts  and  expresses  his  thoughts  in  dance.”(ll) 
This  was  the  strength  and  power  of  Perrot’s  ge- 
nius. We  shall  later  come  across  this  peculiarity 
of  his  talent  and  artistic  thought  as  the  leading 
creative  idea  whicli  penetrates  his  entire  choreo- 
graphic work. 

But  isn’t  it  strange?  “Perrot — dance  incarnate, 
the  greatest  dancer  of  our  age,’’  as  Gautier  calls 
him(12),  is  homelv.  Here  is  his  portrait:  “Perrot 
is  plain,  he  is  even  ugly.  From  his  waist  up  he 
has  the  looks  of  a tenor,  and  with  that  everything 
is  said.  But  from  the  waist  down  he  is  charming 
to  look  at.  . . . The  muscles  of  his  legs  are  un- 
usually slender,  and  counterbalance  the  somewhat 
feminine  roundness  of  his  outlines.  These  are  at 
the  same  time  soft  and  strong,  elegant  and  sup- 
ple. . . . Let  us  add  that  Perrot,  dressed  in  a 
costume  designed  by  Gavarni,  has  nothing  of  the 
sweet  and  inane  look  which,  as  a rule,  makes 
male  dancers  unbearable.  His  success  was  as- 
sured before  he  began  *o  dance.  Watching  his 
soft  deftness,  perfect  rhythm,  suppleness  of  move- 
ment in  pantomime,  it  was  not  difficult  to  recog- 
nize Perrot  the  aerial,  Perrot  the  sylph,  the  male 
Taglioni.”(  13) 

This  poetically  vivid  portrait  of  Perrot  sketched 
bv  Gautier  does  not  attempt  to  hide  the  defects 
of  the  dancer’s  appearance.  The  lithograph  pub- 
lished here*  was  made  with  a few  distortions  and 
exaggerations,  but  it  still  fully  substantiates  the 
above  word-portrait.  Yet  so  great  was  the  per- 
suasive and  expressive  power  of  the  dance  of  this 
short,  homely,  almost  puny  artist,  that  the  spec- 
tator considered  him  handsome. 

The  success  of  Perrot  the  dancer  grew  with 
everv  performance.  “The  Monster”  evoked  an 
aesthetic  enjoyment  comparable  to  the  dancing 
of  Taglioni.  But  Perrot’s  success  was  an  obstacle 
for  the  famous  ballerina,  and  she  refused  to  dance 
with  him.  As  a result,  the  doors  of  all  other  thea- 
tres of  Europe  opened  hospitably  before  him,  but 
the  doors  of  the  Paris  Opera  closed  (1835)  and 


* Not  re  produced  here. 


that  house  remained  to  him  an  unattainable  dream 
for  the  rest  of  his  life. 

Guest  appearances  through  Western  Europe 
gradually  drew  Perrot  into  choreographic  work. 
His  first  efforts  were  mostly  divertissement  num- 
bers. The  transition  to  production  work  is  tied  up 
in  Perrot’s  career  with  his  gradual  withdrawal 
from  performing,  and  from  his  work  with  Fanny 
Elssler,  the  exponent  of  the  dramatico-realistic 
genre  in  dance.  Toward  the  end  of  the  1840’s, 
Perrot  was  already  a famous  choreographer.  His 
ballets,  “The  Naiad  and  the  Fisherman,”  “Cata- 
rina,” “Esmeralda,”  “La  Filleule  des  Fees,”  were 
famous  throughout  Europe. 

It  is  impossible  to  give  even  a general  outline 
of  Perrot’s  work  in  the  various  cities  in  Western 
Europe  and  a description  of  his  productions.  He 
is  a guest  artist,  paying  flying  visits  and  leaving 
the  city  before  the  spectator  has  a chance  to  cool 
off  after  the  delight  of  his  performance.  Perrot 
does  not  stay  in  one  place.  His  hurt  ambition 
.gnaws  at  him.  He  cannot  forget  Paris  which  he 
had  had  to  leave  because  of  his  rivalry  with 
Taglioni.  During  his  entire  stage  career  he  strives 
for  Paris,  for  the  stage  of  the  Grand  Opera,  then 
still  the  .Academy  of  Music  and  Dance.  But  all 
of  Perrot’s  European  fame  could  not  help  him 
reach  that  goal. 

Not  without  an  ironic  smile  does  balletomane 
Charles  de  Boigne  tell  the  story  of  Perrot’s  at- 
tempts during  almost  a decade  to  get  back  to  that 
theatre.  “He  had  to  reach  it  at  any  cost.  For  a 
year's  stay  at  the  Opera  he  would  have  sold  him- 
self to  the  devil.  . . .”(14) 

In  the  provinces  he  met  the  as  yet  unknown 
young  dancer,  Carlotta  Grisi,  and  married  her. 
By  an  unceasing  polishing  of  her  talent,  he 
opened  to  her  the  road  to  the  capital  of  France. 
“With  the  aid  of  Grisi  the  kilometers  which  sepa- 
rated Perrot  from  the  Opera  melt  under  his 
eyes.”(15l  .All  Paris  was  rushing  to  the  Renais- 
sance Theatre  to  have  a look  at  Mme.  Perrot. 
“There  remained  only  a few  kilometers  between 
him  and  the  Opera.  . . . He  returned  to  the 
Opera,  but  on  the  heels  and  in  the  service  of 
Carlotta,  but  for  himself  he  was  unable  to  secure 
an  engagement.  He  had  indeed  been  promised  that 
he  would  perhaps  stage  a ballet.”  (16)  This  was 
enough  for  Perrot  to  begin  working  away  in  the 
theatre  with  all  the  zeal  of  an  idle  genius — with- 
out pausing  to  receive  an  official  invitation.  The 


210 


Danish  choreographer,  Bournonville,  mentions  an 
episode  not  hitherto  known  which  is  typical  of  that 
period.  “I  personally  witnessed  Perrot  coach  Car- 
lotta  Grisi  in  fragments  from  the  principal  part 
of  some  ballet  with  the  idea  of  using  it  in  Gi- 
selle.” (17 ) Here,  then,  Perrot  was  already  re- 
hearsing on  the  stage  of  the  Opera. 

It  was  not,  however,  to  the  interest  of  that 
theatre  to  engage  Perrot.  The  competition  was 
not  to  the  liking  of  the  staff  choreographer,  Co- 
ralli,  very  glad  though  he  was  at  the  same  time 
to  have  Perrot  work  on  the  production  of  Giselle. 
Then  began  the  love  affair  between  Grisi  and  the 
librettist  of  Giselle,  the  poet  Theophile  Gautier, 
a situation  that  made  Perrot’s  presence  at  the 
Opera  impossible.  “Carlotta  took  the  name  of 
Grisi  for  the  posters.  /Ml  Perrot’s  dreams  went  up 
in  smoke. ”(18)  He  was  left  alone  on  the  threshold 
of  the  Opera.  And  a few  days  later  the  premier 
of  Giselle  brought  unprecedented  fame  to  the 
choreographer  Coralli,  who  declared  himself  the 
sole  producer  of  this  ballet. 

* * * 

Was  it  only  intrigues  and  the  failure  of  his 
family  life  that  removed  Jules  Perrot  from  the 
Paris  Opera?  We  are  inclined  to  doubt  it.  The 
choreographic  program  and  practice  of  Perrot  as 
a composer  were  basically  foreign  to  the  bosses 
of  that  theatre  and  its  audience.  It  was  the  thea- 
tre of  the  bourgeois  aristocracy  brought  to  power 
by  the  July  .Monarchy.  ( 19) 

“Most  people  go  to  the  Opera  for  a show  of 
prosperity  and  are  satisfied  only  then,  if  beauti- 
ful scenery,  costumes  and  dances  hold  their  at- 
tention to  such  an  extent  that  they  entirely  forget 
the  beautiful  music.”  This  is  how  Heinrich  Heine 
described  the  taste  of  the  Opera  audiences.  (20) 
One  of  the  prominent  Directors  of  the  Paris  Opera, 
Dr.  Veron,  insistently  recommended  that  serious 
themes  be  not  used  in  ballet.  “Dramas,  pictures  of 
customs,  do  not  belong  to  the  domain  of  choreo- 
graphy,” he  declares  authoritatively.  “The  audi- 
ence wants  first  of  all,  variety.”  (21) 

This  “variety”  was  later  brilliantly  carried  out 
in  Music  Halls  and  in  reviews.  But  the  Opera 
stage  already  bore  signs  foreshadowing  the  cabaret 
art  of  the  end  of  the  19th  and  beginning  of  the 
20th  centuries.  The  constant  change  of  pretty 
dancers,  the  change  of  styles,  all  having  only 
entertainment  functions,  the  change  of  superficial 


effects  in  decor  and  costumes — all  this  was  in- 
herent in  the  Opera. 

It  should  not  be  thought  that  in  defining  the 
1 840’s  in  ballet  as  “the  period  of  Romanticism,” 
we  eliminate,  by  the  same  token,  contradictions 
and  struggle  within  choreography  itself  and  be- 
tween its  various  masters.  The  Romanticism  of 
Taglioni’s  productions  and  the  Romanticism  of 
Perrot’s  ballets  are  (within  the  limits  of  this 
broadest  direction  in  art)  directly  opposed  each 
to  theother. 

But,  like  the  work  of  Perrot,  the  creative  work 
of  Phillippe  and  Marie  Taglioni  did  not  lie  on 
the  main  road  of  the  development  of  ballet  at  the 
Paris  Opera.  “The  Genius  of  the  Dance,”  Marie 
Taglioni,  attracted  the  attention  of  all  Paris,  but 
not  without  protests  and  ideological  opposition. 
She  was  soon  forgotten  when  scores  of  formally- 
taglionizing  rivals  succeeded  her.  (One  need  only 
glance  through  Theophile  Gautier’s  reviews  of 
Taglioni  in  “L’Art  Dramatique”  to  realize  the 
transitory  character  of  his  enthusiasm  over  both 
her  and  the  ideological  essence  of  her  art.) 

I'he  leaders  and  audiences  alike  of  the  Opera 
gratefully  took  from  Taglioni’s  ballets  only  their 
formal  elements:  the  final  repudiation  of  the 
courtier-aristocratic  themes  (mythology,  pastoral); 
the  new  stage  costume  (the  tutu),  although  there 
were  those  who  grumbled  that  Taglioni  wore  it  too 
long;  the  new  neutral-abstract  world  of  fantastic 
beings,  in  which  the  action  of  all  ballets  was  from 
now  on  to  develop;  the  technique  of  the  dance 
(pointes,  poses,  and  pas),  which  caused  a revolu- 
tion and  enriched  the  vocabulary  of  movement  for 
the  female  dancer  and  at  the  same  time  gave 
her  preeminence  on  the  stage  of  the  ballet  theatre. 

The  rest  was  unessential  to  the  Paris  Opera 
ballet.  Libretto  and  stage  direction  were  considered 
secondary  elements.  The  ideological-emotional 
imagery  of  the  dance  as  a poetic  art  was  an  empty 
sound  for  the  Parisian  habitue  of  ballet.  There- 
fore, the  German  poet  and  playwright,  Franz 
Grillparzer,  who  witnessed  the  Paris  ballets  of  the 
1840’s,  was  right  when  he  said:  “They  are  all  the 
same  and  known  to  everybody,  so  many  pieces  of 
candy  being  once  again  ruminated — kisses,  bows 
of  various  sorts,  curtsies,  the  things  that  always 
retain  their  newness  on  the  stage.”  (22) 

* -x-  * 

At  that  time  the  Paris  Opera  was  staging  ballet 
after  ballet  from  which  content  was  gradually 


211 


S.  ,Z':r' 


M*  FE  F ’F  O T . ' 


m.S£). 


disappearing  and  in  which  entertaining  divertis- 
sement numbers  were  growing.  Perrot  dreamed 
about  something  entirely  different. 

Perrot  was  a Romanticist  with  strongly  express- 
ed democratic  tendencies.  Undoubtedly  more  in 
sympathy  with  Victor  Hugo,  Georges  Sand,  and 
even  with  Honore  Balzac,  than  with  de  Musset, 
Baudelaire,  and  Theophile  Gautier.  He  was  cap- 
tivated by  the  exhortations  of  Noverre  and  by  the 
tales  and  demonstrations  of  his  pupils.  Just  as  we 
can  easily  find  two  opposite  directions,  the  aris- 
tocratic and  the  democratic,  in  literary  Romantic- 
ism, so  can  we  discern  these  two  tendencies  in 
ballet  Romanticism.  Jules  Perrot  was  the  repre- 
sentative of  the  democratic,  petty-bourgeois  Ro- 
manticism in  ballet. 

Perrot  worked  on  dance  pantomime,  on  the 
dance  of  action  as  the  foundation  of  the  per- 
formance, i.e.,  he  attempted  to  solve  the  problem 
which  in  our  days  became  decisive  in  the  re- 
construction of  the  Soviet  choreographic  perform- 
ance. Brought  up  on  the  examples  of  the  Romantic 
theatre  with  its  stormy  passions  and  dramatic 
collisions,  Perrot  attempted  to  embody  in  the 
dance  strong  dramatic  situations.  From  his  circus 
experience  he  evolved  the  idea  of  the  rhythmic 
pantomime  and  a technique  of  simple  yet  telling 
stage  situations. 

In  contrast  to  the  practice  of  most  masters  of 
the  Romantic  theatre,  Perrot  weighs,  scrutinizes, 
studies,  the  traditions  and  methods  of  ballet  com- 
position of  the  preceding  periods.  A copy  of  No- 
verre’s  “Letters  on  the  Dance”  that  belonged  to 
Perrot  is,  according  to  Andre  Levinson,  full  of 
weighty  critical  marginal  notes,  which  bring  out 
his  deep  solidarity  with  his  great  predecessor.  (23) 
Noverre’s  tradition  as  realized  in  the  brilliant  pro- 
ductions of  his  pupils.  Didelot  and  Dauberval, 
became  an  organic  element  in  the  creative  power 
of  Perrot,  leading  ideas  in  his  choreographic  con- 
ception. 

Some  of  the  principal  creations  of  Perrot  are 
not  at  all  peculiar  to  the  Romantic  ballet  in  its 
generally  accepted  sense.  First  of  all,  there  is  his 
decisive  rejection  of  the  world  of  celestial  beings 
— apparitions,  spirits,  ghosts — favorite  figures  of 
the  Romantic  “white-tutu”  ballet.  The  overwhelm- 
ing majority  of  Perrot’s  ballets  have  a realistic 
story.  Such  are  Catarina,  Esmeralda,  Gazelda, 
Marco  Bomba,  La  Fille  Mai  Gardee,  Le  Corsaire, 
and  The  Wilful  Wife  (re-staged  by  Perrot).  (Per- 


rot’s Faust  deserves  a special  analysis  which  does 
not  fit  into  the  framework  of  this  study.) 

When  creating  a ballet  based  on  realistic  mate- 
rial, Perrot  strove  for  a full  and  lifelike  delinea- 
tion of  his  characters. 

At  the  time  when  the  Romantic  ballet  of  the 
bourgeois  aristocracy  was  asserting  that  “the  true, 
sole  subject  matter  of  ballet  is  the  dance  . . .,” 
“one  should  not  forcibly  demand  common  sense 
of  the  ballet,”  “the  more  chimerical  the  characters, 
the  less  will  verisimilitude  be  insulted,”  (24)  Per- 
rot is  looking  for  situations  which  reflect  the  traits 
of  the  characters,  which  enrich  them  with  full- 
blooded  and  lifelike  features.  Accordingly,  the 
heroes  of  Perrot’s  ballets  are  first  of  all  people, 
people  endowed  with  all  human  passions. 

The  best  Perrot  ballets  have  plots  and  one  of 
his  best  productions  is  Esmeralda,  conscientiously 
drafted  after  Victor  Hugo’s  novel,  Notre  Dame 
de  Paris.  Below  we  shall  give  a detailed  analysis 
of  Perrot’s  conception  and  of  the  fate  of  this 
ballet  in  Russia.  It  has  never  been  performed  in 
Paris. 

(In  speaking  of  Esmeralda  I refer  here  as  well 
as  later  to  the  production  which  preceded  the  re- 
construction of  the  ballet  by  the  Kirov  Theatre 
of  Opera  and  Ballet,  in  1934.  The  authors  of  the 
reconstruction  made  use  of  certain  elements  of 
Perrot’s  production,  but  in  many  aspects  they 
departed  from  his  conception.) 

The  officer  Phoebus,  an  inane  dandy,  in  whom 
all  human  feelings  fall  silent  before  his  habitual 
desire  to  possess  a pretty  girl  he  may  happen  to 
meet — the  poet,  Gringoire,  who  changes  from 
gratitude  for  saving  his  life  to  marital  jealousy — 
Claude  Frollo,  a monk  possessed  by  lust  and  a 
thirst  for  revenge,  for  whom  the  cloth  is  only  a 
pious  screen — Quasimodo,  a real  human  being 
under  an  ugly  exterior — all  these  are  realistic,  true 
to  life,  and  profound  images. 

Perrot  has  interestingly  developed  the  plot  of 
the  ballet  of  Catarina,  the  Daughter  of  the  Rebel, 
based  on  stories  about  the  painter  Salvator  Rosa. 
Here  Perrot  contrasts  two  worlds:  the  rebels  of 
the  Mediterranean  coast  and  the  Italian  aristocrat. s 
The  story  is  about  the  fate  of  Catarina,  the 
daughter  of  the  rebel,  who  fell  in  love  with  a 
painter,  trusted  him,  and  perished  because  of  her 
trust  in  the  heartless  egoist  and  in  his  social  en- 
vironment. Catarina  herself,  the  daughter  of  a 
rebel  in  the  mountains  of  the  Abruzzi,  a cour- 


213 


ageous,  fearless  “bandit"  but  a weak  woman 
where  her  beloved  is  concerned,  and  the  artist, 
Salvator  Rosa,  enchanted  by  the  to  him  strange 
world  of  the  rebels,  but  unable  to  find  enough 
strength  to  break  loose  from  his  courtier-philistine 
environment,  are  both  painted  in  brilliant  colors. 

Perrot  developed  with  great  theatrical  skill  the 
plot  of  the  ballet  The  Naiad  and  the  Fisherman 
{ Ondine) , whose  theme  is  taken  from  folklore  and 
is  reminiscent  of  Anderson’s  fairy  tale.  The  Mer- 
maid, and  of  Philippe  Taglioni's  La  Sylphide. 

A nerve  of  real  life  pulsates  in  the  characters 
of  all  Perrot's  ballet  heroes,  and  that  happens 
very  seldom  in  ballet.  This  is  unanimously  noted 
by  all  his  contemporaries. 

In  Perrot's  productions  we  see  moderate,  but 
still  democratic  accents,  which  do  not  exist  in 
ballets  of  other  masters.  For  Perrot,  the  city  “lower 
classes”  are  more  honest,  better,  nobler,  than  the 
“upper  classes.”  These  aristocratic  upper  classes, 
— the  officer  Phoebus;  his  fiancee,  the  empty 
coquette  Fleur  de  Lys;  the  artist  Salvator  Rosa; 
the  duchess  Bertha,  in  The  Wilful  Wife;  the  rich 
farmer  and  his  degenerate  son,  in  La  Fille  Mai 
Gardee — all  these  are  “strangers’’  undeserving  of 
the  sympathy  of  the  audience.  On  the  contrary, 
the  “lower  classes” — the  beggars,  the  rebels,  the 
mountaineers,  etc. — are  outlined  in  Perrot’s  bal- 
lets in  an  attractive  manner  and  with  much 
warmth. 

Perhaps  it  was  these  democratic  tendencies  of 
Perrot  which  embarrassed  the  bosses  of  the  Paris 
Opera?  To  them  these  tendencies  were  alien  and 
even  hostile. 

* * * 

To  our  mind,  one  of  the  most  interesting  aspects 
of  Perrot's  creative  work  was  his  endeavor  to  find 
in  the  language  of  movement  a means  to  dance 
action  and  for  the  development  of  characters  and 
situations. 

“Perrot  introduced  into  dance  an  entirely  new 
element — meaning  and  action.  With  him  every 
dance  was  at  the  same  time  a pantomimic  ex- 
pression of  the  action  of  the  drama  itself,  and 
of  moment  for  that  reason  from  beginning  to 
end.”  (25) 

“Every  dance  was  highly  appropriate,  and  most 
of  the  dances  were  continuations  of  the  action, 
as  arias  in  comic  opera  are  continuations  of  the 
dialogue.  Accordingly,  the  ballet  was  to  be  not  so 
much  danced  as  acted.”  (26) 


“To  him  first  belongs  the  honor  of  inventing 
the  so-called  Pas  d’Action  and  the  idea  of  bring- 
ing into  the  dances  themselves,  which  usually  form 
only  the  frame  of  a ballet,  an  aim,  content,  pan- 
tomime. Perrot  was  the  first  to  give  meaning  to 
all  these  Pas  de  Trois,  de  Quatre,  de  Cinq — the 
most  boring  yet  probably  the  most  necessary  part 
of  a ballet.  ...  In  these  Pas  (of  his)  there  is  an 
aim,  a meaning.  You  understand  what  the  part- 
icipants want  to  say  through  their  dances  . . 
(27)  “The  dancing  proper  of  these  Pas  d’.^ction 
represented  a new  type  of  art,”  says  P.  Zotov, 
correspondent  of  the  “Northern  Bee,”  in  develop- 
ment of  this  thought.  And  let  us  remind  you  that 
Zotov  was  an  eyewitness  of  Didelot’s  ballets,  so 
his  praise  deserves  serious  attention.  “Until  now 
we  demanded  only  graceful  poses,  plastic  move- 
ments, lightness,  speed  and  strength.  Here  we 
discovered  acting  in  dances.  Every  movement 
spoke  to  the  mind  and  heart;  every  minute  expressed 
an  emotion;  every  glance  fitted  the  development 
of  the  story.  This  is  a new  discovery  in  the  domain 
of  choreography.”  (28) 

We  have  quoted  a few  passages  from  the  con- 
temporary press  to  corroborate  our  thought.  The 
correspondents  were  right.  Perrot  really  did  make 
“a  discovery  in  the  domain  of  choreography”  by 
introducing  the  “dancing  out”  of  characters  and 
situations.  In  this  unfolding  of  the  action  through 
dance  is  contained  a trait  of  Perrot’s  genius  that 
is  both  instructive  and  close  to  us  in  spirit. 

In  Perrot  s productions  one  and  the  same  prob- 
lem is  always  to  the  fore : to  subject  all  means  to 
the  aim  of  the  action.  In  this  Perrot  does  not 
narrow  the  limits  of  the  dance-play  itself  in  its 
possibilities,  as  Vigano,  who  staged  generally  only 
rythmized  pantomime,  or  Dauberval  and  Didelot, 
who  offered  chiefly  character  dance  movements, 
had  done.  Perrot  used  pantomime  rhythmically 
unconnected  with  the  music,  rhythmized  panto- 
mime, action  dance,  built  on  character  movements, 
dance  pantomime,  to  present  the  classic  dance  on 
the  canvas  of  action.  But  of  all  these  he  still  pre- 
ferred action  dance  and  dance  pantomime. 

I he  parallels  between  the  ideological  programs 
of  Perrot  and  of  Didelot  (both  of  whom  placed 
the  dramatic  play  as  the  foundation  of  their 
ballets)  should  not  obscure  for  us  the  great  dif- 
ference in  methods  of  composition  between  these 
choreographers.  Didelot  is  more  primitive,  ration- 
alistic, and,  one  may  say,  naturalistic,  in  his  re- 


214 


formist  efforts.  Perrot  is  more  poetical  and  also 
much  richer  where  the  dance  is  concerned.  In 
Didelot's  compositions  there  is  a predominance  of 
rhythmized  and  free  pantomime.  In  Perrot’s  work, 
dance  lies  on  the  first  plane — strengthened  and 
m,ade  meaningful  by  pantomime.. 

(Note:  in  comparing  Didelot  and  Perrot,  Theo- 
dore Koni  properly  observes:  “If  Perrot,  as  a 
choreographer,  i.e.,  creator  of  ballets,  cannot  be 
compared  with  Didelot,  he  is  equal  to  him  and 
in  certain  respects  even  superior,  as  a producer 
of  dances  and  scenes.’  Pantheon  and  Repertoire 
of  the  Russian  Stage,  1850,  Vol.  II,  Bk.  3,  p.  41.) 

Didelot,  not  without  obstinacy,  avoided  the  ex- 
panded dance  episode  in  dialogues.  Perrot  is  not 
afraid  to  present  a real  dance  number,  which  does 
not  lower  the  action  value  of  the  situation  but 
illustrates  it.  I'hree-fourths  of  a Didelot  ballet 
could  consist  of  pantomime  and  solo  scenes.  Per- 
rot,  on  the  other  hand,  freely  filled  three-fourths 
of  his  pieces  with  mass  and  solo  dances,  leaving 
only  one-fourth  for  pantomime. 

With  Didelot  the  conventional  ballet  gesture  oc- 
cupied an  important  place.  Perrot  used  it  much 
less.  Didelot  detested  the  overloading  of  move- 
ments with  virtuoso  elements  and  neglected  them. 
Perrot  was  able  to  combine  a virtuoso  movement 
and  expressive  action  in  a dance  passage,  as,  for 
instance,  Michel  Fokine  has  done  in  variations  in 
Carnaval. 

However,  Didelot  and  Perrot  do  have  some- 
thing in  common.  It  consists  of  the  anti-natural- 
istic principle  of  utilizing  pantomime  and  in  the 
intelligent  mimed  actions  of  the  artists. 

There  exists  a widespread  opinion  that  the  act- 
ing of  a dramatic  actor,  based  on  the  general 
laws  of  stagecraft  assures  also  the  proper  solu- 
tion of  acting  in  ballet.  The  study  of  the  best 
choreographic  compositions  places  this  assertion 
under  doubt.  Stop  the  action  of  a ballet  at  a 
moment  when  the  most  expressive  scene  is  being 
enacted,  give  the  performer  a written  text  corre- 
sponding to  the  situation,  and  you  will  see  that 
the  words  and  the  gestures  will  go  their  separate 
ways. 

A gesture  which  is  realistic  in  drama  risks  be- 
coming naturalistic  in  ballet.  In  ballet  the  laws  of 
time,  conditioned  by  the  musical  phrase  with  its 
structure,  rhythm,  and  design,  are  such  that  the 
movement  must  be  much  broader  and  slower  than 


in  the  dramatic  theatre.  Therefore,  when  the  prin- 
ciples of  the  dramatic  theatre  are  applied  to  bal- 
let, they  produce  a reduction  and  acceleration  of 
gesture  and  movement.  Under  such  an  onslaught, 
the  specific  qualities  of  ballet  movement  retreat. 
These  defects  are  especially  clear  in  the  ballet 
Lost  Illusions  and  also  to  a certain  degree  in  the 
reconstructed  Esmeralda. 

On  the  example  of  the  same  Esmeralda  but  as 
handled  bv  Perrot  or  Giselle,  one  may  discover 
other  principles  of  construction  of  pantomime.  The 
maximum  of  simplicity  and  economy  of  body 
movements,  which  seem  in  other  theatres  exag- 
gerated— the  tempo  somewhat  reminiscent  of  slow 
motion  on  the  screen — the  solution  of  the  actor's 


215 


problem,  from  the  aspect  of  the  emotion,  but  with 
the  necessary  consideration  of  the  musical  pulse, 
tempo,  and  breadth  of  the  movement — these  are 
the  moments  that  define  the  quality  of  acting  in 
ballet. 

Is  the  gesture  in  Perrot’s  ballets  conditioned 
by  a word  sentence  which  characterizes  the  situa- 
tion? Generally  speaking,  no.  But  through  the 
convention  of  the  ballet-actor’s  language,  the  pro- 
jection of  his  acting  gains  intensity.  It  is  natural, 
since  Perrot’s  point  of  departure  was  the  neces- 
sity for  ma.ximum  sim.plicity  in  situations,  that  he 
could  not  tolerate  verbosity  and  complexity.  We 
do  not  consider  that  this  tendency  towards  sim- 
ple situations  is  any  admission  of  impotence  or 
feebleness  in  the  art  of  ballet.  No;  it  means  only 
a clear  conception  of  the  specific  characteristics 
of  the  artform  and  an  exact  estimate  of  its  most 
convincing  resources. 

Perrot’s  merit  lies  in  the  fact  that  he  presents 
a pantomimic  scene  which  logically  ties  the  knot 
of  the  intrigue  and  then  reinforces  that  with  an 
emotionally  expressive  dance.  That  is  why  his 
contemporaries  were  confused  in  their  attempts  to 
distinguish  his  dances  and  pantomime.  They  didn’t 
know  how  to  name  the  separate  movements: 
scene,  dance,  action,  pantomime,  etc. 

Projection,  intelligibility,  and  persuasiveness  in 
the  rnise  en  scene,  no  matter  how  achieved — this 
is  typical  of  Perrot.  “Graceful  attitudes  (always 
ridiculous  for  men)  and  top-like  spinning  are  not 
the  final  aims  of  dances,  as  people  had  thought 
before  Perrot,”  triumphantly  concludes  an  obser- 
ver. (29)  “We  saw  how  Perrot  . . . demonstrated 
acting.  We  were  amazed  how  it  was  possible  to 
transmit  a conversation  so  intelligibly  without 
words,  ’ reminisces  the  ballet  artist  Natarova,  who 
had  worked  with  Perrot.  (30) 

No  matter  what  review  of  a Perrot  ballet  we 
read,  there  is  in  its  main  part  an  enthusiastic 
descri]rtion  of  the  composition  of  an  action  dance. 
"In  any  ballet  of  Perrot  the  action  dances  are  the 
best  part  of  the  show.  They  cease  to  be  a simple, 
subjectless  dance  and  take  on  pantomimic  sense.” 
(31) 

In  La  Filleule  des  Fees,  “the  blind  count,  grop- 
ing, led  by  his  heart,  finds  his  beloved  (Ysaure) 
among  the  nymphs,  but  the  madman  runs  wildly 
from  one  to  the  other  in  his  desire  to  recognize 
Ysaure.  . . . Out  of  these  mimetic  movements  is 
composed  the  so-called  plastic  dance,  full  of  life. 


sense,  emotion,  and  picturesqueness,”  which  must 
be  considered  the  acme  of  choreographic  art.  (32) 
Pas  de  Cinq  are  not  simple  dances  but  whole 
scenes  of  love,  coquetry,  seduction,  and  jeal- 
ousy. (33) 

In  The  Wilful  Wife  two  performers  act  out  a 
big  scene  that  is  the  best  part  of  the  piece.  The 
portrait  of  the  domineering  and  spoiled  countess 
who,  by  a miracle,  is  found  sleeping  in  the  room 
of  the  poor  rough  basket-weaver,  is  depicted  in 
vivid  comic  and  dramatic  colors.  “When  she  first 
awakes,  her  hand  impatiently  reaches  for  the  bell. 
When  the  basket-weaver,  who  sees  in  her  his  wife, 
demands  a connubial  kiss,  the  countess  shudders 
at  the  thought  that  she  must  kiss  him.  With  con- 
ceited disgust  . . . she  brings  her  husband  his 
coarse  clothes,  holding  them  in  two  fingers,  and 
quickly  wipes  the  hand  that  he  touched.”  (34)  In 
developing  this  scene,  Perrot  excellently  ex- 
presses the  transition  from  anger  and  irritation  to 
forced  subnjissiveness  in  the  scene  where  the 
basket-weaver  teaches  his  wife  ‘reason.’  The 
movements  of  the  countess,  when  she  tries  to 
steal  the  key  to  the  door  while  the  basket-weaver 
is  asleep — fear,  hope,  vexation,  wounded  pride — 
all  are  expressed  by  her  in  the  poses,  movements, 
and  pantomime  of  this  excellent  dance.”  (35) 

In  writing  of  the  ballet  “The  Naiad  and  the 
Fisherman,”  the  entire  press  mentioned  one  epi- 
sode of  interest  from  the  point  of  view  of  the 
plot.  “The  Shadow  Dance  created  a sensation. 
Ondine  notices  that  a shadow  has  appeared  near 
her.  This  amazes  and  frightens  her.  She  possesses 
a shadow!  She  has  become  a plain  mortal!  She 
will  be  the  wife  of  Matteo!  What  happiness! 
What  joy!  She  plays  with  her  shadow.  She  dances 
with  it.  She  mimics  it,  teases  it,  now  running 
away  from  it,  now,  on  the  contrary,  pursuing  it. 
I his  dance  is  inimitable  in  its  expressiveness.”  (36) 
The  impression  made  by  Perrot’s  “Action  Dances” 
was  so  strong  that  the  divertissement  element  in 
his  ballets  was  barely  honored  by  a few  words  of 
approval  in  reviews  and  reminiscences. 

* * * 

For  a visually  familiar  illustration  of  Perrot's 
methods  of  composition,  let  us  turn  to  a frag- 
ment of  one  of  his  ballets  preserved  on  the  con- 
temporary stage:  the  scene  of  the  Wilis  in  the 
second  act  of  Giselle,  a scene  which  was  re-de- 
signed by  Perrot  on  the  principle  of  dance  panto- 
mime. This  fragment  reveals  to  us  the  image  of 


216 


Perrot  fighting  almost  lone  handed  for  the  dra- 
matization of  stage  movement,  or  more  exactly, 
of  dance  movement,  as  basic  to  the  choreographic 
action. 

The  choreographer  determined  to  heighten  the 
intensity  of  the  dance  of  the  Wilis  by  showing 
the  fatal  round  dance  of  the  ghosts  mercilessly 
dooming  to  death  the  game-keeper.  Here  every- 
thing is  dance,  from  the  beginning  when  the 
game-keeper  comes  running  on  in  terror  to  the 
final  diagonal  mise  en  scene  when,  the  Wilis  hav- 
ing turned  him  round  and  round,  they  push  him, 
and  he,  in  half-jumps,  half-runs  (again  dancing) 
slides  along  the  wall  formed  by  revengeful  Wilis 
and  plunges  into  the  lake. 

Choreographic  stage  direction  hardly  knows  any 
xnoments  equivalent  to  this.  Here,  in  the  single 
frogment  that  has  reached  us,  Perrot  shows  the 


expressiveness  and  projection  of  the  dance.  The 
daring  of  Perrot  lay  in  his  staging  this  scene  not 
by  means  of  folk  movement,  but  of  dance,  and  of 
classic  dance  at  that.  The  dance  consists  of  a 
series  of  well  known  and  usually  noiseless  steps 
(jump,  run,  jete,  sissone,  half  arabesque,  etc.). 
By  delegating  these  thematic  movements  now  to 
the  soloists,  now  to  the  corps  de  ballet — by  mixing 
lythmized  movements  with  the  dance — by  showing 
the  mises-en-scene  as  growing  out  of  a natural 
situation  (the  running  on,  the  closing  up  of  the 
circles) — and  by  carrying  over  the  same  mises-en- 
scene  to  all  other  similar  situations  in  the  devel- 
oping intrigue — as  well  as  in  his  selection  of  the- 
matic movements  and  in  the  “dancing  out’’  of 
th.e  action  episodes — here,  in  this  second  act  of 
Giselle,  Perrot  presents  a brilliant  lesson  in  cho- 
reographic exposition. 


Perrot  and  Carlotta  Grisi  in  Le  Rossignol,  London,  1836.  (Collection:  George  Chaffee) 


217 


Perrof  In  Zingaro,  Paris,  1840  (Collection:  George 
Chaffee) 


When  the  conditions  of  the  theatre  where  he 
is  working  allow  it,  Perrot  refrains  from  introduc- 
ing a divertissement  as  a dance  not  conditioned 
by  the  action  nor  evolved  out  of  the  situation. 
This  is  typical  of  Perrot  who  could  not  conceive 
the  dance  otherwise  than  in  the  form  of  a play. 

H is  intolerance,  on  principle,  towards  the  diver- 
tissement dance  and  his  struggle  against  technique 
as  an  aim  in  itself  were  so  convincing  that,  at  the 
beginning  of  his  stay  in  St.  Peter.sburg,  the  Rus- 
sian press  appeared  as  a herald  of  Perrot’s  ideas. 

Having  witnessed  the  premieres  of  Perrot’s  bal- 
lets, Theodore  Koni  published  a long  article 
against  virtuosity  in  ballet  and  campaigning  for 
action  in  movement.  “Difficult  roulades  in  . ..  one 
and  onehalf  or  two  octaves,  . . . cascades  of  notes, 
are  no  more  important  for  the  art  than  daring 
somersaults  or  the  most  impossible  pas  on  the  tips 


of  the  toes.  Higher  . . . stands  the  art  itself,  which 
consists  of  emotion,  expression,  energy.”  (38) 

Only  under  pressure  from  the  management 
and  the  spectator  were  divertissement  dances  in- 
troduced into  Perrot’s  ballets.  For  examples  one 
may  be  referred  to  the  St.  Petersburg  versions  of 
La  Filleule  des  Fees,  Catarina,  and  other  works. 
But  even  in  these  ballets,  Perrot  delegated  the 
actual  work  on  divertissement  numbers,  whenever 
possible,  to  other  ballet  masters,  in  particular,  to 
Petipa. 

In  Perrot’s  ballets  the  dancers  dance  only  when 
the  emotional  saturation  of  the  unfolding  events 
permits  the  inclusion  of  a dance.  Perrot  does  not 
hunt  for  an  opening  for  a divertissement  dance  in 
a plot.  A ball,  a party,  a festival,  so  generously 
strewn  about  in  other  ballets  and  used  as  success- 
ful ruses  for  dances,  have  no  basic  importance  in 
Perrot’s  ballets.  He  did  not  hesitate  to  set  a dance 
in  a room  (Catarina,  Esmeralda,  Naiad),  in  a 
prison  (Faust),  in  the  mountains  (La  Filleule  des 
Fees),  in  the  street  (Marco  Bomba). 

Perrot  sought  for  dance  movements  that  devel- 
oped emotionally  from  the  plot.  And  when  he 
was  after  expression  in  movement,  it  did  not  mat- 
ter to  him  which  category  the  movement  be- 
longed to — pure  classic,  demi-caractere,  or  genre- 
folk  dancing.  Because  of  that  he  could  be  some- 
what coarse  in  the  arrangement  of  a pas.  The 
“noble  style”  of  the  classic  dance  as  the  only 
worthy  style  did  not  exist  for  him,  although  this 
style  does  constitute  the  basic  material  of  the 
choreographer. 

Here,  however,  Perrot,  the  choreographer,  only 
continued  on  in  the  line  of  Perrot,  the  dancer. 
Leopold  Adice,  practically  the  only  professional 
dancer  to  describe  the  character  of  the  dance  of 
this  period  correctly  noted  the  admixture  of  dance 
styles  in  Perrot’s  work.  “A  true  example  of  a demi- 
caracters  dancer,  Perrot  executed  with  equal  per- 
fection terre-a-terre  movements,  strongly  mascu- 
line pas,  and  dances  demanding  balloon.  It  was 
difficult  to  believe  that  one  performer,  one  man 
could  do  all  this.”  (39) 

Perrot  searched  for  movement  colored  by  emo- 
tion— in  the  language  of  Noverre,  for  “move- 
ment of  action” — and  in  most  cases  he  found  it. 
Such  is  the  dance  of  Gringoire  and  Esmeralda  in 
the  first  act  of  Esmeralda  (the  idea  of  a comic 
wedding  dance).  A few  movements  that  Perrot 
took  from  mediaeval  dance  customs  (as  something 


218 


similar  to  a character  battement  tendu  with  a by- 
movement of  the  foot)  give  the  folklore  form  of 
a dance  devoid  of  typically  ballet  steps. 

Originally  and  simply  conceived  is  the  dance 
of  Gringoire  and  Esmeralda  in  the  first  scene  of 
the  second  act.  Perrot  excellently  translated  into 
ballet  language  the  description  of  Gringoire  given 
by  Hugo:  a youth  physically  maladjusted  to  life. 
Esmeralda  tries  to  teach  Gringoire  to  dance,  plan- 
ning to  have  him  as  her  partner  during  the  street 
dance.  The  thing  obviously  does  not  work.  Vainly 
does  he  try  to  repeat  the  dance  movements  shown 
him;  his  awkwardness  and  clumsiness  prevent  him. 
But  he  goes  through  Esmeralda’s  dance,  thus  pro- 
viding a contrasting  accompaniment  to  the  bal- 
lerina. 

In  Perrot’s  principles  of  composition  we  are  car- 
ried away  by  the  increased  emphasis  on  the  stage- 
directional  end  of  the  show.  It  affects  everything. 
A great  deal  of  stage  designing  material  is  drawn 
into  the  productions.  Perrot  studied  and  worked 
with  it.  As  a rule  his  scenic  material  was  always 
contemporary  and  in  harmony  with  him.  Thus,  for 
“The  Naiad  and  the  Fisherm.an”  he  utilized  paint- 
ings by  the  French  artist  (Leopold  Louis?)  Rob- 
ert. Even  Perrot’s  contemporaries  have  written 
about  the  direct  relation  between  Perrot  and 
Robert’s  work,  specifying  in  particular  the  paint- 
ings “The  Sicilian  Improvisator,”  “The  Return 
from  the  Harvest,”  etc.  (40) 

While  preparing  Esmerald  for  production,  Per- 
rot studied  mediaeval  Paris  in  detail,  finding  in 
paintings  material  for  poses,  groups,  and  even 
mises-en-scene,  in  particular  for  the  procession  of 
Quasimodo,  “Pope  of  the  Jesters,”  in  the  last  act. 

The  paintings  of  Delacroix  inspired  Perrot  when 
working  on  Le  Corsaire.  The  costumes  of  the 
corsairs,  preserved  to  this  day  and  still  standing 
as  remarkable  examples  of  theatrical  costume,  were 
copied  from  Delacroix’s  painting,  “Death  of  a 
Giaour,”  and  this  also  undoubtedly  suggested  to 
Perrot  the  composition  of  the  mise-en-scene  of  the 
second  act,  where  the  skirmishes  of  the  corsairs 
are  stamped  with  the  emotional  features  of  Dela- 
croix’s fi.gures. 

Where  Didelot  at  times  underestimated  the  im- 
portance of  scenery,  in  Perrot’s  stage  work  decor 
and  costume  play  an  active  role.  He  did  not  wait 
for  the  artist’s  suggestions,  but  dictated  his  own 
based  on  his  conception  of  the  production  as  a 
v,^hole. 


In  Faust  the  action  was  developed  on  two 
planes;  the  stage  was  divided  into  two  halves,  and 
the  drama  unfolded  alternately  in  the  garden  and 
in  the  room. 

For  the  last  act  of  Esmeralda  Perrot  demanded 
of  the  scenic  designer  “a  big  practical  bridge 
over  which  the  entire  corps  de  ballet  will  pass,” 
(44)  and  on  which,  in  the  background,  and  pa- 
rallel with  the  scene  between  Esmeralda,  Frollo, 
and  the  guard,  a mass  dance-action  was  to  take 
place. 

In  Catarina  another  bridge  with  a different  end 
in  view  was  introduced — a light  little  bridge  span- 
ning two  cliffs.  Over  this  the  arm.y  marched  into 
the  territory  defended  by  the  insurgents;  on  it  a 
battle  would  be  fought;  then,  at  the  crucial  mo- 
ment, when  the  insurgents  were  forced  to  run, 
this  bridge  would  collapse.  But  the  fearless  moun- 
taineer, Diavolino,  would  leap  neatly  across  the 
ravine. 

* * * 

Perrot  differed  from  other  choreographers  in 
his  unusual  methods  of  composition  in  the  mass 
dance.  Unfortunately,  not  a single  mass  dance 
by  him  has  remained  intact  on  our  stage.  How- 
ever, odd  pictures  of  dance  numbers  from  his 
ballets  and  rare  clues  in  drawings  made  on  pages 
of  music  and  opinions  expressed  by  his  contem- 
poraries, make  it  possible  to  speak  of  peculiarities 
in  his  methods  of  mass  dance  composition. 

The  disintegration  of  the  ensemble  dances  of 
the  Romantic  ballet  had  begun  long  since.  This 
disintegration  was  not  a little  aided,  according 
to  the  witty  remarks  of  Theophile  Gautier,  by 
“the  singing  and  dancing  vainglory  of  the  corps 
de  ballet  artist.  The  choreographic  ensembles  are 
gone  through  with  disgust  and  boredom.”  (42) 

Perrot  would  not  tolerate  uniform  movements 
of  all  participants  in  dance  ensembles.  Except  in 
cases  of  naiads,  dryads,  and  the  like,  i.e.,  of 
“divine  shadows,”  he  divided  the  corps  de  ballet 
into  groups  composed  of  persons  with  definite  plot 
problems:  soldiers,  peasants,  insurgents,  beggars, 
gypsies.  For  each  of  these  groups  he  invented 
separate  dances  and  movements,  taking  advantage 
of  all  the  levels  of  the  stage,  even  placing  dancers 
with  their  backs  to  the  audience  or  moving  them 
far  into  the  background;  in  short,  he  scattered 
them,  subjecting  the  mass  to  the  production  plan 
justified  by  the  progress  of  the  action. 

In  this  manner  were  built  the  mass  dances  in 

219 


the  first  act  of  Esmeralda.  But  in  the  modern  ver- 
sion of  this  ballet  we  now  see  a typical  corps  de 
ballet;  if  it  still  consists  of  separate  groups,  these 
are  only  memories  of  Ferret’s  production  which 
was  much  more  inventive.  If  we  now  have  before 
us  a “Spanish  gypsy”  corps  de  ballet  with  some 
“guys”  as  additional  figures,  we  must  remember 
that  in  Perrot’s  time  this  entire  dancing  mass  was 
of  a grotesque  character.  The  groups  then  in- 
cluded cripples  and  monsters  who  danced  on 
crutches  and  peg-legs,  beggars  with  infants  wrap- 
ped in  rags,  fortune-telling  gypsies — in  brief,  a 
diversified,  coaise  ensemble,  fairly  accurately  con- 
veying Victor  Hugo’s  description. 

The  dance  of  the  Naiads  in  The  Naiad  and  the 
Fisherman  was  also  composed  with  great  original- 
ity. A drawing  made  during  a gala  performance 
at  Peterhof  and  confirmed  by  contemporary  des- 
criptions (43),  shows  us  that  there  was  no  sym- 
metry in  the  construction  of  the  groups  that  they 
were  scattered  all  over  the  stage  in  different  ar- 
rangements. Despite  this  complicated  design  the 
mass  dance  was  made  part  of  the  general  com- 
position and  integrated  with  the  development  of 
I the  movement  of  the  entire  scene. 

An  example  of  a mass  dance  created  by  Perrot 
and  still  on  our  stage  is  the  “Dance  of  the  Cor- 
sairs” in  the  first  act  of  Le  Corsaire,  but  it  has 
been  subsequently  symmetrized  by  Marius  Petipa. 
Perrot  built  the  dance  on  a concrete  conception 
of  the  plot.  The  purpose  of  the  dance  is  to  “act 
out”  incidents  of  work:  the  motion  of  the  sailing 
ship,  the  hoisting  of  the  sails,  rowing,  and  so  on. 
The  theme  may  be  antiquated,  but  the  treatment 
of  the  dance  itself  bears  witness  in  principle  to 
the  intention  of  the  choreographer  in  similar  plot 
problems.  Lord  Byron’s  verses  about  the  free  and 
happy  life  of  the  corsairs  vibrate  through  the 
production : 

‘'O’er  the  glad  waters  of  the  dark  blue  sea, 

Our  thoughts  as  boundless  and  our  souls  as  free, 

Far  as  the  breeze  can  bear,  the  billows  foam. 

Survey  our  empire  and  behold  our  home!  . . . 

From  toil  to  rest,  and  joy  in  every  change.” 

In  Caterina,  Le  Corsaire,  Esmeralda,  Faust, 
Perrot  instinctively  created  stormy  mass  dances 
of  bandits.  In  the  middle  of  the  19th  century  in 
the  Imperial  St.  Petersburgh  Ballet  this  was  the 
only  possible  motivation  for  the  manly  and  strong 
folk  dances. 


Contemporaries  of  Perrot  repeatedly  remarked 
his  great  superioritv  over  other  choreographers  in 
his  skill  in  handling  masses.  “Mazilier  embroiders 
the  pattern  design  of  the  scenes  rather  well,  but 
he  understands  nothing  about  masses.  He  does  not 
know  how  to  introduce  a mass,  how  to  take  it  off 
the  stage,  nor  how  to  manage  it  while  on  the 
stage.  Perrot,  on  the  contrary,  possesses  an  unusual 
strenght  in  ballabiles.”  Thus  an  author  of  me- 
moires  who  felt  no  sympathy  towards  Perrot’s  per- 
sonality or  creative  work  has  written  of  him.  (44) 
The  soloists,  whom  Perrot  introduced  into  the 
mass,  appeared  to  him  as  leaders,  “precentors,”  of 
the  corps  de  ballet  dance. 

* * * 

In  search  of  steady  work,  Perrot  arrived  in  St. 
Petersburg  in  1848. 

Encouraged  by  good  salaries  in  Russia,  fright- 
ened by  the  rise  of  revolutionary  unrest  in  West- 
ern Europe,  displaced  from  their  long  held  posi- 
tions by  intrigues  and  through  disagreements  in 
principle,  many  Western  European  celebrities 
flocked  to  St.  Petersburg.  Here,  “under  the  per- 
sonal leadership  of  Nicholas  I,”  the  framework  of 
the  Russian  ballet  was  definitely  being  formed; 
choreography  was  to  be  planted  as  a privileged 
art  for  courtiers  and  bureaucrats. 

From  1848  to  1859  (with  a short  interval) 
Perrot  worked  in  the  St.  Petersburg  ballet  as  art- 
istic leader,  choreographer,  and  artist. 

The  St.  Petersburg  ballet  had  changed  consid- 
erably since  the  time  of  Charles  Didelot.  By  the 
1850’s  it  constituted  one  of  the  largest  artistic 
collectives  in  the  world,  serving  several  theatres, 
bringing  up  in  its  school  both  the  corps  de  ballet 
and  the  soloists.  True,  engagements  of  artists  from 
abroad  continued,  but  occasionalh-  St.  Petersburg 
ballerinas  were  also  exported  to  Western  Europe. 
The  acting  and  dancing  resources  of  the  St.  Peters- 
bug  ballet  were  on  a level  with  the  leading  West- 
ern European  dance  technique.  One  thing  only 
was  bad,  and  this  even  the  shortsighted  Imperial 
Court  understood:  the  theatre  had  no  repertory 
of  its  own.  Attempts  at  creating  its  own  ballets 
were  unsuccessful.  The  productions  turned  out  to 
be  sickly,  lacking  in  vitality,  and  were  soon  taken 
off  the  boards.  As  before,  the  ballet  subsisted  on 
French  novelties,  copied  and  distorted  in  St.  Pe- 
tersburg. 

After  Didelot  ballet  in  Russia  was  obviously  out 


220 


of  luck.  Choreographers  who  folllowed  him  spared 
nothing  to  create  most  glamorous  productions. 
Even  Russian  historical  themes  were  mobilized 
(for  instance,  the  seizure  of  Kazan  by  Ivan  the 
Terrible),  themes  which  seemed  to  conform  so 
successfulyly  to  the  moods  of  the  official  gen- 
darmeries-patriotic  of  the  1830’s.  But  these  pain- 
ful efforts  went  unhonored  even  with  commenda- 
tion from  the  Third  Department.  ( Political  Police 
— translator's  note.) 

The  St.  Petersburg  ballet  was  hibernating.  The 
guest  appearances  of  Marie  Taglioni,  beginning 
with  1837,  stirred  up  the  stagnant  pool.  Unheard 
of  publicity,  success,  rapture,  the  arrival  of  peo- 
ple from  the  hinterlands  for  her  guest  appear- 
ances, personal  gifts  of  money  from  Nicholas  I 
who  “honored”  the  guest  artiste  with  constant  at- 
tendance at  her  performances — all  this  raised  the 
demand  for  ballet. 

But  the  excitement  soon  cooled  off.  Just  as  in 
Paris,  Taglioni  remained  an  honored  artist  of 
world  renown  but  foreign  to  St.  Petersburg  in  her 
creative  direction.  During  her  last  appearances 
the  auditorium  was  half  empty. 

Twilight  had  come  again.  The  choreographer 
Titus,  invited  from  Berlin,  was  a venerable  old 
man,  a contemporary  of  Noverre.  He  had  already- 
lost  his  fighting  fervor  and  was  peacefully  copying 
the  work  of  others.  In  this  manner,  Giselle,  Lc 
Sylphide,  Le  Diable  Boiteux,  and  dozens  of  other 
foreign  ballets  which  brought  no  glory  to  Titus 
or  to  the  Russian  theatre,  moved  to  St.  Petersbrug 

In  1847  the  young  Marius  Petipa  and  his  fa- 
ther (Jean)  came  from  Paris  to  St.  Petersburg. 
They  hastily  showed  two  Western  novelties,  Bd- 
quita  and  Satanella.  Success  these  had,  but  this 
was  not  what  was  awaited.  The  new  premieres 
did  not  create  a European  fame  for  the  Russian 
ballet. 

On  the  order  of  Nicholas  I a search  was  begun 
for  an  original  choreographer-leader  who  could 
raise  the  Russian  ballet  to  a higher  level  than  the 
Western,  and  they  found — Jules  Perrot. 

Filled  with  the  very  best  of  intentions  and  hop- 
ing that  he  would  finally  find  a fertile  field  and 
sympathetic  spectators,  Perrot  arrived  in  Russia, 
of  which  Western  artists  knew  nothing  beyond 
rumors  of  the  singular  enthusiasm  of  the  ballet 
habitues  and  of  their  generosity.  Perrot  did  not 
know  that  those  who  directed  the  creative  life 


Perrot  and  Cariotta  Grisi  in  La  Polka,  Paris,  1844 

(Collection;  George  Chaffee) 

of  the  Imperial  Ballet  (the  Emperor,  the  I'liiid 
Department,  spectators  holding  orchestra  seats) 
were  much  more  reactionary  and  intolerant  than 
the  “social  lions”  of  the  baignoire  of  the  Paiis 
Opera. 

In  Paris  there  existed  a narrow  cultural  circle 
of  writers,  poets,  and  painters,  who  either  accepted 
or  disapproved  of  the  ballet  from  the  point  of 
view  of  progressive  art,  but  who  in  any  case 
heightened  the  activity  of  its  masters.  The  ballet 
in  St.  Petersburg  was  totally  devoid  of  this  crea- 
tive atmosphere.  It  was  surrounded  by  the  atten- 
tions of  Nicholas  I (who  taught  ballerinas  the 
manual  of  arms  and  chose  his  mistresses  from  the 
company),  the  Director  (who  headed  the  mass 
and  individual  plunder  of  the  treasury),  and  the 
balletomanes  (who,  like  the  hero  of  Lermontoff's 
Mongo  and  the  general  in  Newrassoff’s  Ballet  were 
interested  in  the  legs  of  the  ballerinas  for  whose 
owners  they  generously  bought  flowers  and  pres- 
ents). Wanting  playwrights,  writers,  composers, 
choreographers,  and  cultured  criticism,  astonish- 
ing in  its  lack  of  creative  personality,  the  St. 
Petersburg  ballet  was  the  only  form  of  theatre'- 


221 


art  which  caused  no  censorship  worries  to  the 
I’hird  Department. 

Having  mobilized  all  his  European  resources, 
Perrot  arrived  in  Russia.  He  brought  a number 
of  finished  compositions,  such  as  Esmeralda,  Ca- 
larina,  Naiad  arid  Fisherman,  La  Filleule  des  Frees, 
La  Fille  Alai  Gardee,  in  the  interpretation  of  such 
world  renowned  celebrities  as  Elssler,  Grisi,  Cer- 
rito. Due  to  Parrot's  Irallets  and  the  famous  bal- 
lerinas (he  brought  on),  the  theatre  was  full  dur- 
ing several  seasons.  But  beginning  with  1853,  his- 
toriographers of  the  Imperial  Theatres  systemati- 
cally sigh:  “In  spite  of  the  new  ballets  magnifi- 
cently produced,  and  a marvelous  corps  de  ballet, 
the  fashion  for  ballet  has,  apparently,  definitely 
passed.  ' (45  ) “To  what  can  this  strange  and  sud- 
den coolness  be  ascribed?  We  can’t  think  what 
other  choreographic  celebrity  our  public  desires  to 
see.”  (46) 

There  W'as  nothing  strange  in  this.  The  answer 
was  in  the  inappropriate  dramatic  ideas  of  Perrot. 

“The  fashionable  part  of  St.  Petersburg  which, 
en  grande  term,  hears  and  judges  great  artists  . . . 
and  . . . pronuounces  its  definite  verdicts,  was 
soon  disappointed’.  “Formerly  dances  were  an  in- 
terpolated part.  The  taste  of  our  time  demands 
mostly  dances,”  one  of  the  journalists  explains  as 
the  cause  of  this  displeasure.  (47)  “It  has  always 
appeared  to  us,”  wrote  the  law-abiding  Theodore 
Koni,  having  already  cooled  off  after  his  early 
enthusiasm  (for  Perrot’s  new  style),  “that  the 
greatest  blunder  of  the  choreographers  was  the 
idea.” 

I'he  cen.sors  were  guided  by  the  dicta  of  the 
famous  Gendarme  Dubbelt:  “A  Prince  must  be  a 
defender  of  virtue  and  not  its  seducer,” — “The 
theatre  must  be  a school  of  morals,  it  must  show 
vice  punished  and  virtue  rewarded.”  (49)  But  in 
Perrot’s  fir,':t  St.  Petersburg  Esmeralda,  an  army 
officer  was  shown  as  a scoundrel  and  “pure  love” 
W'as  “rewarded”  bv  the  execution  block. 

The  censorship  troubles  of  Esmeralda  are  one 
of  the  most  interesting  episodes  in  the  history  of 
the  ballet  theatre.  The  intention  (in  Russia)  to 
stage  the  drama  Esmeralda  based  on  Hugo’s  novel 
originated  towards  the  end  of  the  1830’s.  The 
censorship  bureau  rose  in  arms  sharply  against 
Hugo.  (“I  called  on  the  minister  today,”  notes 
the  censor  Nikitenko  in  1834.  “He  ordered  not  to 
permit  Hugo.  ...  It  is  still  too  early  for  us  to 


read  such  books.”  Diary  of  A.  Nikitenko,  St.  Pe- 
tersburg, 1907,  p.  241.) 

The  case  reached  Nicholas  I,  who,  after  sub- 
stantially changing  the  meaning  of  the  drama, 
permitted  its  performance.  At  the  same  time  the 
composer  .Alexander  Dargomyjsky  made  use  of 
Hugo's  plot  for  an  opera  with  the  same  title 
(1847-1851)  and  he  also  encountered  open  oppo- 
sition from  the  ruling  circles  who  did  everything 
not  to  let  the  work  remain  in  the  repertory.  N 
performance  of  any  kind  (drama,  opera,  ballet) 
based  on  the  Hugo  novel  was  considered  by  the 
Russian  police  to  be  harmful  for  the  Imperial 
stage.  But  Perrot  was  the  only  choreographer  to 
whem  Hugo’s  Idas  were  his  own  ideas.  For  this 
reason  he  considered  the  production  of  Esmeralda 
a matter  of  honor.  He  had  already  accomplished 
it  in  Milan  and  in  London. 

Perrot’s  original  plan  agrees  with  the  plot  of 
the  novel.  The  scenario  is  built  on  contrasts.  Mass 
scenes  (Act  I,  and  the  2nd  scenes  of  Act  II  and 
III)  alternate  with  intimate  scenes  (Act  II,  Scene 
1;  .Act  III,  Scene  1). 

The  finest  of  these  in  Perrot’s  conception  is  the 
last  scene : Paris  during  the  carnaval,  Paris  of  the 
gay  blades  and  revellers  forgetting  their  everyday 
life.  Not  withoiit  reason  does  this  act  carry  the 
title  “The  Festival  of  the  Madmen.”  Mobs  of 
students,  soldiers,  beggars,  burghers,  wind  in  round 
dances  through  the  streets  and  alleys  of  Paris. 
They  halt  the  sad  procession  which  is  leading 
Esmeralda  to  the  place  of  execution,  and  barely 
glancing  at  the  habitual  sight,  whirl  away. 

The  cured  Phoebus  and  his  fiancee  are  out  for 
a stroll.  To  them  the  procession  leading  Esmeralda 
to  her  execution  is  only  a delay.  At  the  demand 
of  Phoebus  the  officer  stops  the  procession  and  lets 
him  and  his  fiancee  pass.  In  vain  does  Esmeralda 
fling  herself  at  him  crying,  “Phoebus!”  Phoebus 
dees  net  even  glance  back. 

.And  when  the  execution  is  being  carried  out — 
so  Perrot  had  conceived  it — the  mob  in  a frenzied 
dance  rushes  to  the  place  where  the  final  scene 
of  the  gypsy’s  drama  had  just  been  enacted  and 
with  carefree  gaiety  drowns  out  her  last  cry.  Paris 
is  not  concerned  with  the  tramp. 

(In  vain  do  the  authors  of  the  reconstructed 
version  of  Esmeralda  at  the  State  Academic  Thea- 
tre of  Opera  and  Ballet  refer  to  the  propinquity 
of  their  first  act  to  the  original  conception  of 
Perrot.  To  return  to  the  denouement  of  Hugo’s 


222 


novel  is  not  the  same  thing  as  coming  close  to 
Perrot.  What  we  have  is  a literal  dramatization  of 
the  plot,  not  a choreographic  interpretation  of 
the  theme,  as  Perrot  had  done  it.) 

No  wonder  that  the  censorship  bureau  of  the 
Third  Department  sounded  an  alarm  about  such 
projects.  I'he  theatrical  policy  of  Nicholas  I could 
not  accept  the  treatment  of  the  character  of 
Phoebus  as  a social  rake — Phoebus,  the  sun  in 
parentheses.  Similarly  unacceptable  was  the  figure 
of  Esmeralda  who  is  ruined  by  Phoebus’s  assassin 
— a clergyman. 

Dangerous  also  seeniec!  the  “low  genre"  of  Per- 
rot who  wished  to  bring  out  in  the  first  act  tramps, 
cripples,  monsters,  all  openly  enjoying  the  sympa- 
thy of  the  choreographer.  Suspicious,  too,  was 
the  figure  of  Fleur  de  Lys,  the  girl  who  considers 
everything  around  her,  even  a public  execution, 
a continuous  holiday  and  pleasure.  We  do  not 
even  speak  of  the  obvious  “indecency”  of  the 
house  of  ill  repute  to  which  Phoebus,  having  ar- 
ranged everything  in  advance,  leads  the  gypsy 
girl.  On  all  these  points  the  management  of  the 
theatre  and  the  censorship  bureau,  at  times  gently, 
at  times  very  firmly,  placed  their  “veto.” 

And  Perrot  surrendered  his  position. 

Accordingly,  the  finale  of  the  ballet  in  Perrot's 
new  version  was  changed — the  execution  of  Esme- 
ralda was  abandoned;  an  unexpected  turn  was 
given  the  action  and  the  cured  Phoebus  saved 
Esmeralda. 

From  now  on  Esmeralda  is  the  “rewarded  vir- 
tue” and  the  aristocratic  Phoebus  is  transformed 
into  a noble-hearted  dashing  officer.  “Perrot  has 
altered  the  denouement,  which  could  not  have 
been  presented  on  the  stage,”  gently  remarks  the 
press  about  tire  changed  finale.  (50) 

Following  the  example  of  the  changes  made  by 
the  censers  in  the  dramatization  of  Hugo’s  novel 
for  the  spoken  stage,  Claude  Frollo  was  trans- 
formed from  a clergyman  into  a syndic,  a lay- 
man. Only  through  “contraband”  did  the  remark- 
able artist  N.  Holtz  manage  to  preserve  in  his  per- 
formance a few  traits  of  the  Frollo  of  Hugo’s 
novel. 

The  contrast  in  the  scenes  of  the  last  act  during 
which  the  revelry  of  the  carnaval  should,  accord- 
ing to  Perrot’s  conception,  have  drowned  out  the 
last  cry  of  the  ill-fated  tramp,  Esmeralda,  were 
also  weakened  by  censorship. 


The  democratic  features  in  Perrot’s  Western 
ballets  were  plainly  intolerable  and  indecent.  “A 
contemptible  and  dangerous  theatre,”  the  head- 
quarters of  the  gendarmerie  earlier  had  named 
the  Romantic  melodrama. 

Even  the  titles  of  Perrot’s  ballets  provoked  pro- 
tests from  the  censors.  “The  title  of  the  ballet 
La  Filleule  des  Fees  (Goddaughter  of  the  Fairies) 
might  seem  strange  because  sorceresses  cannot  be 
godmothers  at  baptism,”  it  was  noted  in  the  rec- 
ord of  the  Department  of  the  Press  (of  the  Min- 
istry of  the  Interior,  Translator’s  Note),  referring 
to  Perrot’s  libretto.  As  a result  the  ballet  was  re- 
titled “The  Fosterling  of  the  Fairies.”  (51 ) 

Perrot’s  ballet,  The  War  of  Women,  provoked 
a classical  decision  by  the  vigilant  L.  Dubbelt:  “If 
this  v/ere  a play,  I would  not  have  passed  it.”  (52) 
In  short,  despite  the  fascination  of  his  European 
fame  and  his  political  harmlessness,  Perrot  did  not 
please  the  Third  Department.  And  there  was  also 
the  rumor  obligingly  spread  by  slanderers:  “Perrot 
is  an  enemy  of  everything  truly  Russian ; Perrot 
persecutes  Russians.”  This  would  have  been 
enough  to  place  the  unesuspecting  Perrot  in  the 
“suspicious”  category.  The  result  told  very  soon. 

“The  enlightened  press”  of  that  time  philoso- 
phically defined : “Ballet  is  the  same  as  a dream, 
and  . . . the  further  it  is  away  from  every  veri- 
similitude the  more  captivating  it  is.” (53)  And 
the  habitue  of  the  orchestra  seats  desired  that 
“the  ballet  should  let  the  spectator  leave  the 
theatre  with  a clear  head,  gay  heart,  and  un- 
impaired bile.”  (54)  The  authority  of  being  the 
greatest  master  of  the  ballet  stage  in  Europe  failed 
Perrot.  He  was  lost  between  his  ardent  desires  to 
continue  the  democratic  direction  in  his  works  or 
the  production  of  amusing  little  action  ballets 
and  the  persistently  growing  demands  to  bring 
back  to  ballet  “the  world  of  fantasy  . . . the  do- 
main of  dreams,  away  from  everything  that  has  a 
constant  form.”  (55) 

To  this  period  belong  the  memoirs  of  his  con- 
temporaries bearing  witness  to  the  “peculiarity” 
of  Perrot,  mixed  with  a creative  confusion. 

“While  the  music  is  being  played,  Perrot  sits 
down  on  the  floor  in  the  middle  of  the  rehearsal 
hall,  his  feet  under  him,  takes  out  his  snuffbox 
and  litsens  to  the  music.  Everyone  else  stands. 


223 


Perrot  listens  through  a page  of  music,  and  there 
is  a play  already  in  his  head.  But  it  also  happens 
thus:  the  music  is  being  played;  Perrot  keeps  on 
thinking,  but  his  fantasy  is  dormant.  He  turns  to 
the  musicians.  ‘Keep  quiet!’  The  music  stops.  He 
thinks  again,  and  again  nothing.  ‘Excuse  me,’  he 
says  to  the  company,  ‘I  can’t  do  it.  The  rehearsal 
will  be  tomorrow’.”  (56) 

d here  is  a stamp  of  confusion  on  Perrot  s works 
during  the  last  years  of  his  stay  in  Russia. 

In  the  final  account,  Perrot  made  concessions. 
He  staged  a few  fantastic  romantic  ballets. 
[Eoline,  Armide)  and  attempted  to  unite  in  them 
an  action  plot,  a romantic  conception,  and  broad- 
ly developed  dance.  But  on  this  road  he  invariably 
met  with  failure.  However,  he  knew  this  himself. 

.A.nd  the  newly  arrived  European  celebrities  were 
already  singing  new  tunes.  Pointes  of  steel,  daring 
pirouettes,  remarkable  muscular  build,  marvels  on 
pointes — ‘‘This  style  pleased  well  the  taste  of  the 
balletomanes.”  (57 ) From  the  Milan  factory  of 
Carlo  Blasis  ballerinas  came  out  in  batches — cold 
technicians,  masters  of  dance  lacework,  marvels 
of  aplomb  and  equilibrium.  For  them  and  in  them 
Perrot’s  rival  and  successor — the  choreographer, 
composer-violinist,  “omnipotent”  and  “omniscient,” 
Arthur  Saint  Leon — was  gaining  his  fame. 

Jules  Perrot  with  his  democratic  inclinations 
and  yearning  for  the  melodrama  began  to  be  a 
burden  to  the  direction  of  the  Imperial  Theatres. 
He  was  no  less  bored  himself.  In  1859,  ambitious 
and  full  of  disdain  for  court  bowing  and  scraping, 
Perrot  put  in  his  place  Sabouroff,  Director  of  the 
Imperial  'Fheatres,  who  had  shouted  at  the  chor- 
eographer as  if  he  were  a servant — and  left  for 
France.  ( 58 ) 

Perrot  did  not  immediately  realize  the  changes 
which  hud  taken  place  in  Western  Europe  during 
his  absence.  He  made  several  attempts  to  revive 
his  former  fame  by  showing  his  best  works  in 
Milan,  where  his  name  had  rung  in  by-gone  day's, 
but  he  heard  onlv  hisses.  (59) 

Perrot  fell  into  oblivion. 

In  a solitary,  provincial,  far-off  French  village, 
Perrot,  strong,  full  of  vigor  and  health,  urged  on 
death,  idly  wiling  away  his  time  in  fishing.  From 
time  to  time  his  few  friends  came  to  see  him. 
Young  ballerinas  appeared  who  wished  to  go 
through  the  parts  of  Esmeralda,  of  Catarina,  with 
him  personally.  He,  the  rival  of  Marie  Taglioni, 

224 


was,  like  her,  destitute  in  his  old  age.  Bournon- 
ville  in  his  memoires  .speaks  bitterly  about  the 
painful  life  of  Perrot  in  his  declining  years. 

A decade  after  Perrot’s  retirement  new  chor- 
eographers turned  to  his  productions.  Rehashing 
his  com.positions,  eliminating  the  democratic  ac- 
cents, diluting  the  productions  with  divertisse- 
ments which  tore  the  thread  of  the  plot,  they 
increased  the  success  of  these  compositions  as  pure- 
ly spectacular  shows.  In  this  manner  Petipa 
changed  Faust  and  Esmeralda,  added  a whole 
dance  tableau.  The  Animated  Garden,  and  several 
other  numbers,  to  Le  Corsairc,  borrowed  whole 
scenes  from  other  productions  of  Perrot's  and  in 
“appreciation”  placed  his  own  name  on  the  pro- 
gram as  author  of  the  libretto. 

The  period  of  negation  of  the  principles  of 
Perrot’s  creations  had  arrived. 

The  formally  brilliant  works  of  Marius  Petipa 
bear  witness  to  it.  The  action  element  in  the 
dance  dwindles  down  to  nothing;  the  development 
of  the  plot  in  ballet  gives  way  to  the  develop- 
ment of  the  fairyland  divertissement.  Emotionally- 
saturated  movement  is  replaced  by  movement 
which  has  as  its  aim  only  the  picturesque  form. 
The  dance-drama  is  transformed  into  a variegated 
collection  of  concert  numbers  not  logically  con- 
nected with  one  another. 

Perrot  died  in  1892.  By  that  time  he  and  his 
ideas  had  been  definitely  forgotten. 

In  the  Soviet  Theatre  Perrot’s  traditions  are 
being  revived  on  a new  foundation.  Perrot  was 
connected  with  leading  literature,  poetry,  and 
painting.  Such  a connection  is  also  the  basic  lever 
in  the  reconstruction  of  Soviet  choreography. 

We  are  fighting  for  the  construction  of  a ballet 
which,  without  losing  anything  of  its  force  of 
persuasion,  would  be  based  not  on  an  impover- 
ished, lowered  dance,  but  on  a high  technique. 
I’he  practic.al  work  of  Perrot  in  the  sphere  of 
realization  of  pantomime,  organically  fused  with 
dance,  will  undoubtedly  find  a wide  application 
in  the  Soviet  ballet. 

We  understand  and  consider  as  close  to  our 
own  ideas  Perrot’s  conception  of  the  dance  as 
the  principal  factor  of  meaning  and  action  in  the 
choreographic  oroduction.  We  welcome  the  prob- 
lem (as  yet  unsolved  by  us)  of  dramatization  of 
the  dance  performance. 

We  value  and  are  reconstructing  the  principle 
of  stage  direction  in  ballet.  Only  by  basing  oneself 


on  stage  direction  in  ballet  is  it  possible  to  trans- 
form a choreographic  “fancy  dress  concert”  into 
a dramatically  sound,  complete  dance  play. 

We  are  waiting  for  the  moment  when  one  will 
be  justified  to  repeat  in  reference  to  some  con- 
temporary creator  of  a choreographic  production, 
worthy  of  our  heroic  period,  the  words  which  have 


been  said  about  Perrot:  “He  is  more  than  a ballet 
master,  i.e.  a creator  of  great,  stirring  images.”  (60) 
That  is  why  the  “little  man  with  the  big  blue 
eyes,”  the  forgotten  failure,  Jules  Perrot,  deserves 
our  grateful  memory,  as  one  of  the  few  fighters  in 
the  19th  century  for  active  and  expressive  chore- 
ography. 


(1)  Levinson,  A.,  Mastera  Baleta,  St.  Petersburg, 
1914,  p.  99 — (2)  Bournonville,  O.  Moya  Teatral- 
vaya  Jisn.  (Mit  Theater  Liv.)  — (3)  Briffault,  E., 
Jules  Perrot  in  Galerie  des  9rtistes  Dramatiques 
de  Paris,  vol.  1,  1841,  unpaged. — (4)  Bournon- 
ville, Op.  cit. — (5)  Bournonville,  O.,  see  Klassiki 
Khoreografii,  Leningrad,  1937,  p.  283 — (6)  Brif- 
fault, Op.  cAiif — (7)  Ibid — (8)  Ibid — (9)  de 
Boigne,  Ch.,  Petits  Memoires  de  V Opera,  Paris, 
1857,  p,  218 — (10)  See,  for  example,  the  feuille- 
ton  by  T.  Gautier  in  L’Art  Dramatique  en  France 
depuis  25  ans,  vol.  I,  p.  139 — (11)  Briffault,  Op. 
cit. — (12)  Gautier,  Th.,  Carlotta  Grisi,  in  Galerie 
des  Artistes  Dramatiques  de  Paris,  vol.  II — (13) 
Gautier,  Th.,  L’Art  Dramatique  en  France  depuis 
25  ans,  vol.  II,  p.  33 — (14)  de  Boigne,  Op.  cit., 
p.  248— (15)  Ibid,  p.  250— (16)  Ibid,  p.  251  — 
(17)  Bournonville,  Op.  cit.,  p.  262 — (18)  de 
Boigne,  Op.  cit.,  p.  251  — (19)  See  our  work 
Teairalny  Parij  30-kh  Godov  in  Outrachennye 
lllusii,  published  by  GATOB,  Leningrad,  1935 — 
(20)  Heine,  H.,  O Franzouskoy  Szenie:  see  Gol- 
lected  Works,  vol.  Ill,  1904,  p.  457 — (21)  Veron, 
Dr.,  Memoires  d’un  Bourgeois  de  Paris,  vol.  Ill, 
p.  159 — (22)  I quote  from  Ehrhard,  A.,  Une 
Vie  de  Danseuse  (Elssler),  Paris,  1909,  p.  238 — 
(23)  Levison,  Op.  cit.,  p.  51 — (24)  Gautier,  Th., 
L’Art  Dramatique  . . . , vol.  IV,  p|  240 — (25) 
Panteon  i Repertuar  Russkoy  Szeni,  vol.  H,  Bk. 
3,  1850,  pp.  41-42— (26)  Ibid,  vol.  VI,  Bk.  12, 
1850,  p.  21  — (27)  Panteon,  Bk.  3,  1854,  pp.  46- 
47 — (28)  Severnaya  Pchela,  No.  46,  1849 — (29) 
Panteon,  Bk.  3,  1854,  p.  47 — (30)  From  the 
reminiscences  of  the  artist  A.  P.  Natarova,  Isto- 
richeski  Vestnik,  Bk.  II,  1903,  p.  432 — (31  ) Pan- 
teon i Repertuar  . . . , vol.  I,  Bk.  2,  1851,  p.  10 — 
(32)  Ibid,  vol.  II,  Bk.  3,  1850,  p.  49— (33) 
Verenaya  Pchela,  No.  42,  1850 — (34)  Panteon  i 


Repertuar  . . . , vol.  VI,  Bk.  12,  1850,  p.  24 — 
(35)  Ibid,  p.  24 — (36)  Chasles,  Phil,,  Ondine, 
in  Les  Beautes  de  I’Opera,  Paris,  1845,  p.  20.  We 
print  the  illustration  of  this  dance  which  appeared 
in  the  quoted  symposium. — (37)  Slonimsky,  Y., 
Giselle,  publ.  by  Academia,  1926 — (38)  Panteon 
i Repertuar  . . . , Kks.  8-9,  1848,  p.  75 — (39) 
Adice,  L.,  Theorie  de  la  Gymnastique  de  la  Danse 
Theatrale,  Paris,  1859,  p.  108 — (40)  Panteon  i 
Repertuar  . . . , vol.  I,  Bk.  2,  1851,  p.  15 — 
(41)  Valtz,  K.,  65  Let  v Teatre,  publ.  by  Aca- 
demia, p.  70 — (42)  Gautier,  Th.,  L’Art  Drama- 
tique . . . , vol.  IV,  pp.  33-34 — (43)  See  the 
illustration  to  the  article  on  Ondine  in  Les  Beautes 
de  I’Opera — (44)  de  Boigne,  Gh.,  Op.  cit.,  p. 
340 — (45)  Panteon,  vol.  II,  Bk.  3,  1854,  p.  47 — 
{46)Teatral,  Pocket  Book  for  Lovers  of  the  Thea- 
tre, St.  Petersburg,  1853,  p.  45 — (47)  Panteon 
i Repertuar  . . . , vol.  I,  Bk.  1,  1851,  p.  11  — (48) 
Severnaya  Pchela,  No.  266,  1850 — (49)  From  the 
Report  of  Dubbelt  of  Apr.  3,  1839,  and  Oldenkop, 
of  Oct.  10,  1833.  I am  quoting  from  N.  Drisen’s 
Dramatic  Censorship  of  Two  Epochs,  pp.  8-9 — 
(50)  Severnaya  Pchela,  No.  293,  1848 — (51)  N. 
Drisen,  Op.  cit.,  p.  99 — (52)  Ibid,  p.  109 — (53) 
Panteon  i Repertuar  . . . , vol.  II,  Bk.  3,  1850, 
p.  44— (54)  Ibid,  vol.  I.  Bk.  2,  1851,  p.  9— 
(55)  Ibid,  vol.  II,  Bk.  3,  1850,  p.  45— (56) 
Natarova,  Op.  cit.,  pp.  431-432.  Similar  descrip- 
tion in  de  Boigne,  op.  cit.,  p.  340 — (57)  Wolf, 
A.,  Khronika  Peterbourgskikh  Teatrov,  vol.  Ill, 
St.  Petersburg,  1884,  p.  113.  Wolf  adds:  From 
that  time  on  began  the  intrusion  of  acrobatics 
into  . . . the  domain  of  choreography — (58)  Me- 
muari  Mariusa  Petipa,  St.  Petersburg,  1906,  pp. 
55-56 — (59)  Russkaya  Szena,  No.  9,  1864.  Foreign 
reports,  p.  2 — (60)  Pariteon  i Repertuar  . . . , 
vol.  I,  Bk.  2,  1851,  p.  10. 


225 


Perrot  and  Grisi  in  “Ondine” 


It  could  be  only  a disservice  and  confusing  all 
around  to  publish  Yury  Sloninisky's  essay  on  Jules 
Perrot  in  silence  and  leave  it  to  fend  for  itself  in 
its  new  literary  environment. 

The  work  is  above  all  a modern  Russian  study 
of  Perrot  in  Russia.  It  is  cast  in  the  form  of  a 
biography,  but  its  author  is  really  preoccupied 


226 


only  with  ideas  and  with  the  aesthetics  of  Perrot's 
choreographic  creations.  This  is  the  unique  dis- 
tinction of  the  essay. 

But  biography  is  also  a matter  of  dates,  places, 
and  events,  and  of  their  play  upon  an  artist  and 
his  creations.  These  are,  perhaps,  pedestrian  in- 
terests, but  they  are  likewise  the  skeletal  frame 
on  which  all  else  must  be  hung.  From  this  angle, 
certain  recent  English  and  American  accounts  of 
Perrot  stand  to  supplement  and  enrich  Slonim- 
sky's  recital,  especially  concerning  Perrot’s  most 
active  and  abundantly  creative  years. 

Nevertheless,  it  is  proper  and  necessary  to  re- 
call to  the  reader,  that  when  Slonimsky’s  essay 
first  appeared,  in  1937,  it  was  incomparably  the 
finest,  fullest,  indeed,  the  only  direct  study  of 
Perrot  in  any  literature,  and  it  still  remains  the 
most  weighty  and  thought  provoking  as  well  as 
the  most  extensive.  Slonimsky  shows  himself  not 
only  an  independent  thinker  but  also  an  original 
researcher.  He  truly  first  blazed  Perrot’s  trail  (but 
in  Russian)  through  a wilderness  of  years  of  forget- 
fulness. That  he  was  unable  to  follow  its  varied 
course  in  detail  through  Western  Europe,  1836-48, 
is  understandable. 

Try  to  find  anything  of  moment  on  Perrot  in 
English  before  1937.  There  is  only  the  briefest 
biographical  entry  of  a couple  paragraphs  prefac- 
ing scattered  Russian  references  in  Cyril  W.  Beau- 
mont’s “History  of  Ballet  in  Russia”  (London, 
1930). 

Since  Slonimsky’s  1937  essay  appeared,  how- 
ever, the  whole  situation  has  altered  radically 
and  for  the  better  in  a steady  crescendo,  in  large 
part  thanks  to  Beaumont.  The  Autumn  of  that 
very  year  saw  published  the  latter's  invaluable 
“Complete  Book  of  Ballets”  (London,  1937)  with 
an  e.xtensive  section  devoted  to  a detailed  account 
of  many  individual  Perrot  compositions.  Its  bio- 
graphical notice  remained  as  weak  as  in  1930,  but 
the  ballet  entries  represented  an  immense  contri- 
bution of  original  source-material  probably  still 
unparalleled  in  ballet  literature. 

The  following  year  Lillian  Moore’s  “Artists  of 
the  Dance”  (New  York,  1938)  offered  the  first 
serious  and  substantial  account  of  Perrot’s  actual 
career,  start  to  finish,  to  appear  anywhere.  A 
wealth  of  initial  research  of  elusive  source-material 
was  telescoped  into  its  few  pages.  It  corrected 
errors  earlier  circulated  while  rarely  comntitting 
any  of  its  own.  It  left  much  still  unsaid  but  what 


it  said  was  good  and  mostly  new. 

Finally,  in  “The  Ballet  called  Giselle”  (London, 
1944),  Beaumont  devoted  a chapter,  plus  scat- 
tered references,  to  Perrot,  forming  in  all  the  most 
detailed  biography  in  our  language,  taking  ad- 
vantage of  both  Moore’s  and  Slonimsky's  contri- 
butions and  adding  new  material  of  moment. 

Naturally,  these  Amero-English  essays  are  pre- 
occupied with  Perrot  in  the  West,  particularly 
with  the  very  years  that  Slonimsky  breezes  through, 
1836-48.  Accordingly,  they  fill  in  many  lacunae 
in  his  account,  .-^s  they  are  in  easily  available 
modern  books  and  can  all  be  read  easily  in  an 
hour,  it  is  not  presuming  too  much  to  take  fa- 
miliarity with  them  for  granted  here. 

RECAPITULATION 

However,  were  anyone  to  attempt  to  piece  to- 
gether a composite  picture  of  the  life,  activities, 
and  works  of  Perrot  from  all  those  essays  taken 
together  and  sifted,  the  task  could  only  prove 
perplexing  to  exasperation  and  the  result  leave 
much  to  be  desired.  A definitive  biography  of 
Perrot  still  waits  to  be  written. 

The  publication  of  the  foregoing  trenchant  Rus- 
sian study  suggests,  however,  that  there  is  now 
need  to  pause  and  take  stock,  in  an  endeavor  to 
weed  out  some  of  the  errors,  contradictions,  and 
cross-purposes  of  these  several  witnesses,  and  to 
clarify'  what  exactly  should  be  dug  into  tomorrow 
to  complete  a full-sized  portrait  of  Perrot.  Such 
is  the  perhaps  thankless  task  here  undertaken.  In 
the  process,  when  possible,  we  shall  add  such  fresh 
material  as  has  come  our  way  that  may  serve 
substantially  to  fill  in  certain  parts  of  the  picture. 

Putting  all  those  accounts  together,  then,  here 
is  how  we  find  Perrot’s  record  to  stand  to  date : 

1810:  Born.  This  (not  1800)  is  now  the  ac- 
cepted and  sure  date.  Slonimsky  says,  June;  Moore, 
18  August,  and  with  her  Beaumont  latterly  agrees. 
— 1810-23:  Childhood  in  Lyon.  Adequately  of 
record. — 1823-29:  Paris,  secondary  theatres. 
Casually  of  record. — 1830-35:  The  Paris  Opera. 
Of  general  record.  London  visits,  nominally  of 
record.  Up  to  now,  solely  a dancer.  After  1835,  a 
dancer-choreographer.  (But  when  exactly  did 
Perrot  quit  the  Paris  Opera?) 

1836:  Italy,  first;  then  London  ( April-Aug.)  ; 
then  'Vienna  (Sept.,  on) — 1837-39:  practically 
unrecorded. — 1840-41:  Parisian  interlude)  say,  to 


227 


July,  1841'!.  Recorded  in  general. — 1842-48:  The 
London  Opera,  6-7  months  a year.  In  general  way 
of  record,  especially  in  detailed  accounts  of  various 
ballets.  Activities  elsewhere,  unrecorded,  except  for 
— 1848:  Milan  (Feb.);  London  season;  and  ap- 
pearance in  St.  Petersburg,  (Oct.,  on). — 1848-58: 
I’he  St.  Petersburg  Opera,  7-8  months  a year. 
Generally  of  record.  .A.ctivities  elsewhere  unrec- 
orded, except  Paris,  1849. — 1859-92:  Retirement 
in  France.  Any  further  activities  unremarked  except 
one  vague  reference  by  Slonimsky. — 1892:  Died, 
29  Aug.,  at  Parame,  France.  Probably  correct. 

Obviously,  then,  only  Perrot’s  activities  in  Paris, 
London,  and  St.  Petersburg,  have  as  yet  received 
any  detailed  attention  and  even  there  the  record 
is  far  from  complete.  His  many  activities  else- 
where have  been  only  fragmentarily  and  inciden- 
tally indicated.  .Xctually,  three  full  years,  1837-39, 
and  part-to-half  of  sixteen  years,  1842-58,  still  re- 
main as  good  as  blanks. 

We  append  a chronological  chart  of  Perrot’s 
artistic  career  as  far  as  we  have  been  able  to  re- 
constitute it.  It  gives  at  a glance  the  over-all  pat- 
tern of  his  activities.  In  particular,  it  shows  graph- 
ically that  Perrot's  life  after  he  left  the  Paris 
Opera  (1835)  and  before  he  arrived  in  Russia 
(1848)  was  not  so  hectic  and  fitful  as  Slonimsky 
supposed.  His  successive  and  long  London  seasons 
as  dancer-choreographer  gave  it  both  solidity  and 
continuity.  It  also  indicates  that  his  Russian  years 
were  not  of  a radically  different  pattern  but  rather 
represented  much  the  same  pattern  transferred  to 
another  setting. 

It  is  a mistake  to  pass  over  Perrot’s  activities 
1836-48  outside  Paris  and  London  as  though,  by 
tacit  understanding,  they  should  be  regarded  as  of 
no  particular  moment.  Actually,  these  still  mostly 
hidden  stretches  may  prove  crucial  to  a proper 
and  rounded  understanding  of  his  career  and  crea- 
tions, even  of  the  exact  nature  of  his  activities  in 
Paris,  London,  and  St.  Petersburg.  What  do  wc 
mean  by  that? 

Take  Esmeralda  as  a major  instance,  because 
Slonimsky  leans  so  heavily  on  it.  His  long,  detailed, 
and  exciting  account  is  concerned  only  with  its 
(late)  Russian  history.  However,  Moore  has 
Esmeralda  “created”  and  Beaumont  “first  pro- 
duced” in  London  in  1844  with  Grisi  in  the  title- 
role.  I he  work  had  been  announced  for  produc- 
tion there  (but  failed  to  materialize)  the  year  be- 
fore, first  with  Dumilatre  and  later  with  Elssler 


(when  she  suddenly  turned  up).  However,  was 
that  1844  production  Perrot’s  FIRST  Esmeralda? 

To  illustrate  his  text  of  the  London  libretto, 
Beaumont  reproduces  with  no  ado  whatever  a 
souvenir  print  of  Gerrito  as  Esmeralda,  and  in  his 
“Romantic  Ballet  in  Lithographs  of  the  Time”  he 
has  catalogued  this  study  as  “Published  London, 
Gambart  and  Co.,  June  4th,  1841.”  If  his  date  is 
right,  the  print  long  antedates  London's  first 
Esmeralda. 

However,  the  print  is  not  English  but  German, 
being  a lithograph  by  Mittag  after  a drawing  by 
Burde.  We  know  it  only  in  a cut-down  state,  but 
Beaumont  enters  its  title  as  “Fanny  Cerrito  St. 
Leon  als  Esmeralda”  and  we  have  seen  an  earlier 
Russian  reproduction  of  it  similarly  titled.  Still, 
that  inscription  is  mad  as  a hatter  for  a print  of 
1841  if,  according  to  our  best  information,  Cer- 
rito and  St.  Leon  were  married  only  in  1845.  This 
is  a pretty  mix-up. 

However,  to  cut  that  Gordian  knot,  the  slightly 
disconcerting  fact  has  to  be  faced  that  AN 
Esmeralda,  a “hallo  grande  Esmeralda,”  was 
produced  at  La  Scala,  Milan,  in  1839 — -choreo- 
graphed by  Antonio  Monticini.  And  Cerrito  was 
prima  ballerina  there  that  season. 

There  is  a possibility,  even  a good  probability, 
that  Cerrito  was  the  original  Esmeralda  of  ballet 
history.  The  possibility  is  equally  good  that  she 
danced  the  role  in  German  cities  before  her  Lon- 
don debuts  (1840).  She  never  danced  it  in  Lon- 
don. But  did  she  ever  dance  Perrot’s  Esmeralda? 
— before  1844? — somewhere  on  the  continent? 
When  and  where  was  Perrot’s  EIRST  Esmeralda 
produced?  Before  or  after  1839?  And  what  affini- 
ties (Hugo’s  tale  as  common  source  apart)  were 
there  between  the  Monticini  and  the  Perrot  works? 
( Perrot  could  well  have  seen  Monticini’s  ballet 
on  his  way  from  Naples  to  Paris  (Feb. -March, 
1839).  .\t  least,  in  rehearsal.  It  was  performed 
21  times.  Those  are  not  irrelevant  questions,  even 
in  connection  with  the  London  and  St.  Petersburg 
productions  years  later. 

Finally,  Slonimsky  speaks  of  three  (Russian) 
versions  of  Perrot’s  Esmeralda — an  original  or 
“first”  draft  libretto;  what  the  censor  eventually 
agreed  to  pass;  and  a modern  recension.  That 
may  all  make  sense  in  Russia,  but  not  in  the  West. 
For  Beaumont  has  reported  in  detail  the  1844 
libretto,  and  its  last  act,  in  dramatic  sequence  and 
in  denouement,  closely  parallels  what  the  censor 


228 


eventually  passed  in  Russia  in  1848.  Was  that 
first  Russian  draft  merely  a return  to  an  earlier 
libretto  of  Perrot’s  put  to  one  side  for  London? 
Or  does  it  mean  that  Perrot  first  prepared  for  St. 
Petersburg  a new,  more  realistic  and  violently 
radical  last  act,  that  was  never  seen  there?  Are 
we,  perhaps,  to  see  mirrored  in  that  strange  and 
unproduced  first  Russian  draft  Perrot’s  own  im- 
mediate reactions  to  the  political  and  social  up- 
heaval that  convulsed  Western  Europe  in  1848? 
That  is  a question  beyond  our  power  to  answer 
and  right  down  Slonimsky’s  alley. 

This  involved  picture  of  the  snarled  web  that 
is  Perrot's  Esmeralda  as  of  record  and  as  here 
newly  remarked  only  to  raise  questions  still  un- 
answerable, will  illustrate  something  of  the  im- 
portance of  those  hidden  stretches  that  still  stand 
in  our  Perrot  biographies.  They  are  not  dry  and 
dusty  lists  of  cities,  dates,  events.  They  play  di- 
rectly upon  and  will  both  illuminate  and  modify 
what  is  now  known  of  his  history. 


PERROT  AND  THE  PARIS  OPERA 

Most  writers  establish  Perrot  as  a grotesque 
acrobatic  pantomime  dancer  and  then  hurl  him 
suddenly  and  forthwith  at  a surprised  and  slightly 
incredulous  Paris  Opera  audience — not  as  a pre- 
m.ier  comique  but  as  an  unwontedly  homely  pre- 
mier danseur  noble  ( “dont  la  figure  a sauve  les 
jambes”),  and  the  ideal  partner  of  the  inexpress- 
ibly exquisite  and  ajthereal  Marie  Taglioni — her- 
self actually  something  of  an  anomaly  in  looks  and 
build  for  a premier  danseuse  noble,  and  the  Ro- 
mantics welcomed  and  loved  the  contradiction  in 
both  cases.  This  is  tall  theatre — but  is  it  also  good 
history? 

It  is  our  belief  (we  have  yet  to  see  a contem- 
porary news  announcement)  that  Perrot  made  his 
Paris  Opera  debut,  not  in  “May,”  but  as  Moore 
records  (with  Castil-Blaze,  who  was  present,  and 
ether  writers  of  the  early  1830’s  to  back  her  up), 
23  June,  1830,  in  a new  pas  seul  introduced  in 
Le  Rossignol.  With  his  first  amazing  bounds  upon 
that  stage  he  won  for  himself  without  reservation 
the  most  coveted  of  all  accolades  in  the  dance- 
world  of  Paris — the  Aerian. 

The  surprise,  however,  could  not  have  been  from 
the  excellence  of  his  dancing.  Rather,  it  must 
have  been  that  the  Opera  authorities  had  had  the 
wisdom  and  willingness  to  accord  this  highest 
French  official  recognition  to  one  of  their  own 


Perrot  and  Carlotta  Grisi  in  Giselle,  London,  1846. 
(Collection:  Museum  of  Modern  Art) 


boulevard  dancers.  Perrot  arrived  at  the  Opera  by 
the  devious  route  that  Salle  and  other  forains 
had  followed,  a route  where  many  exceptional 
talents  fell  by  the  way  but  along  which  one  or 
another  in  almost  every  generation — though  hardly 
of  the  stature  of  those  two  wonders — reached  that 
stage.  I'he  only  wonder  was  that  the  Opera  Direc- 
tion had  capitulated  to  genius  in  its  midst  yet 
outside  its  own  sacred  precincts. 

For  it  was  no  Polichinelle  or  Sapajou  that  the 
Opera  had  eventually  received  into  its  family. 
The  anonymous  Galerie  Theatrale  writer  of  1832 
is  explicit  about  Perrot’s  boulevard  years,  ap- 
parently from  first  hand  knowledge.  Perrot,  he 
says,  secured  an  engagement  at  the  Gaite  in  1823 
for  grotesque  character  parts. 

“Nevertheless,  Perrot  had  an  idee  fixe.  He  had 
a sacred  fire  in  his  legs,  and  despite  his  success, 
he  was  determined  to  revolutionize  his  genre  and 
to  depose  his  gambages  in  favor  of  flic-flacs.  . . . 
So,  while  he  mimed  away  at  the  theatre,  he 
danced  in  private.  Mornings,  he  danced.  Then  he 
studied  the  monkeys  at  the  Horticultural  Gardens, 
only  to  come  back  and  dance.  Evenings  he  was 
once  more  a monkey — then  a dancer.  In  brief,  he 


229 


Perrot  and  Fanny  Cerrito  in  Eoline,  London,  1845 
(Colleciion:  George  Chaffee) 

was  indefatigable.  He  looked  adniiiingly  at  his 
legs.  I'here  he  divined  a glorious  future  and,  t,.,'] 
of  hope,  he  may  have  said  with  Chenier:  II  >•  a 
quelque  chose  la  dedans.  .And  that  was  just  wliar 
his  teacher  also  said  and  was  there  a teacher 
more  to  be  believed  than  Vestris  the  .Aerian ! So 
he  took  the  plunge.  At  sixtee.n  (1827j  he  quit 
the  Gaite  and  the  1600  francs  a year  that  it  then 
paid  him,  and  landed  himself  at  the  Porte  St. 
Martin,  no  longer  as  a monkey  but  as  a dancer. 
He  danced  in  Faust;  he  danced  in  Les  Artistes. 
And  there  were  connoiseurs  who  took  note  of 
him.  Day  by  day  he  grew  in  suppleness  .and  in 
earnings.  'J'hus,  his  second  year  there  he  made 
2600  francs  instead  of  the  2200  that  he  began  with. 

1 he  progression  traced  by  Perrot’s  earnings,  far 
from  being  any  negligible  kickshaw,  seems  to  us 
quite  worthy  of  attention.  There  is  to  be  seen  the 
route  followed  by  the  talent  and  reputation  of 
this  astounding  man.” 


This  is  quite  a different  progression  from  the 
one  indicated  by  most  modern  writers  and  it  rings 
true.  The  Porte  St.  Martin  Theatre,  “the  Opera 
of  the  people,”  produced  striking  ballets  and  had 
excellent  dancers.  Had  not  the  Taglionis  been 
there,  1824-25?  Was  not  Coralli  then  its  ballet 
inaster  and  Mazilier  one  of  its  principal  dancers? 
All  three  were  shortly  to  go  to  the  Opera.  Ap- 
parently Perrot  signed  up  first,  though  Mazilier 
actually  beat  him  (3  May)  to  his  Opera  debut, 
and  then  Coralli  followed  in  Veron's  time. 

* 

However,  we  have  really  anticipated  events  yet 
to  come,  because  Perrot’s  actual  introduction, 
again  like  Salle’s,  to  the  Opera  world  in  general 
did  not  take  place  in  Paris  or  in  France.  Although 
the  Paris  Opera  first  saw  Perrot  only  23  June, 
1830,  his  dancing  days  on  the  boulevards  must 
have  ended  at  least  with  1829.  During  the  six 
months  in  between  Perrot  first  emerged  as  a pre- 
mier danseur  noble  in  the  grand  manner — in 
London. 

The  London  Times  of  4 Feb.,  1830,  carried  an 
announcement  of  the  King’s  Theatre  Italian  Opera 
season  then  about  to  open  which  ran  in  part  thus: 
“Monsieur  Perrot  (from  the  Academic  Royale, 
Paris,  his  1st  appearance  in  this  country).”  Note 
that  Perrot  is  then  already  formally  announced  as 
from  the  Paris  Opera,  though  he  had  not  as  yet 
made  his  debut  there  nor  would  for  another  five 
months. 

The  opening  night.  Sat.,  6 Feb.,  was  reviewed 
in  The  Times  on  Mon.,  8 Feb.  The  review  is 
memorable  as  Perrot’s  first  notice  as  a Grand 
Opera  celebrity,  his  almost  invariable  field  for  the 
next  thirty  and  more  years.  After  remarking  the 
opera,  it  continues:  “The  old  ballet,  Le  Carneval 
de  Venise,  followed.”  (But  what  a far  hark  from 
the  Petit  Carneval  de  Venise  that  had  seen  his 
first  childish  efforts  in  his  home  city  of  Lyon  almost 
a decade  before!)  “Mesdames  Athalie,  Clara, 
Josephine  Hullin,  Messrs.  Gosselin,  Frederic  and 
Perrot  were  the  principal  dancers.  The  two  first 
named  ladies  made  no  very  great  display  of  cho- 
leographic  science,  but  Mile.  Hullin  exhibited 
much  graceful  agility  and  precision  in  her  steps. 
Frederic  has  greatly  improved,  but  he  is  too  am- 
bitious to  astonish  by  his  tours  de  force  to  be  a 
very  pleasing  dancer.  The  necessary  effect  of  ex- 
traordinary efforts  is,  that  his  steps  are  seldom 


230 


in  unison  with  the  time  of  the  music.  Monsieur 
Perrot  pleases  more  with  less  apparent  exertion, 
and  is  a very  neat  and  elegant  dancer.  In  other 
respects  the  corps  de  ballet  remains  the  same  as 
last  season.” 

With  pictures  of  Perrot  the  acrobatic-dancer- 
mime  in  our  heads  we  might  have  expected  those 
two  names  to  have  been  reversed  by  the  reviewer. 
Perrot  first  impressed  London  as  “a  very  neat  and 
elegant  dancer,”  quite  in  the  noble  academic  tra- 
dition. That  is  what  he  already  then  was  and  what 
for  a decade  (and  always  preferably)  he  insistent- 
ly continued  to  be,  at  home  though  he  was  in  all 
the  Categories.  He  was  not  yet  20  when  he  first 
delighted  the  London  and  Paris  Opera  audiences, 
just  about  the  age  of  Nijinsky  when  he  first  took 
Paris  by  storm. 

This  hitherto  ignored  beginning  of  Perrot’s 
operatic  career,  this  first  recognition  and  accep- 
tance of  his  fair  measure  and  proper  place  in 
the  dance  world — at  the  London  Opera — is  a 
happy  touch.  For  Perrot  belongs  as  particularly 
to  London  as  he  belongs  generally  to  all  Europe. 
Paris  and  St.  Petersburg,  Milan,  Naples,  and  Vien- 
na, figure  strikingly  in  his  operatic  career,  but  none 
so  often  or  to  more  telling  effect  than  London. 

London  stands  as  the  brightest  and  would  seem 
to  have  been  the  happiest  chapter  in' Perrot’s 
life.  And  London  divided  with  Perrot — and  only 
with  Perrot — the  same  quiet  conviction,  fixed 
loyalty,  spontaneous  welcome,  unlimited  admira- 
tion for  a supreme  artist  in  la  danse  noble  that  it 
unhesitatingly  and  always  rendered  Taglioni  as 
her  due.  They  made  their  debuts  there  the  same 
year  (1830)  and  left  that  scene  eventually,  Ta- 
glioni in  1847,  Perrot  in  1848,  and  to  London, 
with  their  going,  the  great  days  of  the  ballet  were 
over.  Last  as  first,  whatever  its  enthusiasms  for 
others,  it  regarded  those  two  as  irreplaceable. 

Once,  late  in  their  careers  there,  “the  modest 
Perrot,”  (proud  as  Lucifer  in  his  art),  was  forcibly 
brought  out  to  share  honors  from  which  he  in- 
stinctively withdrew  with  the  galaxy  of  stars,  in- 
cluding Taglioni,  that  he  had  assembled  for  Lon- 
don and  exhibited  at  their  best.  He  was  made  to 
kneel  while  a floral  crown  was  placed  on  his  em- 
barassed  head,  to  the  bravos  of  a vast  house.  Lon- 
don can  let  itself  be  sufficiently  moved  to  go  all 
out — when  a unique  occasion  lends  moment  to  the 
gesture.  It  did — for  Perrot,  and  so  far  as  we  know 
only  for  Perrot  since  1788,  when  it  had  crowned 


Noverre,  until  then  a unique  honor,  as  Dr.  Bur- 
ney then  remarked. 

Perrot  towers  in  ballet  history,  he  and  his  works 
were  popular  Europe  over.  But  of  his  best  years, 
1830-50,  Paris  had  only  the  first  five  and  London 
alone  also  shared  largely  in  those.  At  the  height 
of  his  full  powers  (1840-50),  London  was  his  chief 
stage  and  fixed  centre  for  seven  consecutive  years. 
His  Russian  decade  that  followed  had  color  and 
warmth  but  lacked  sustained  creative  power,  was 
mostly  reflective  of  earlier  triumphs  or  re-furbished 
with  borrowings,  however  novel  to  Russia. 

It  is  a satisfaction  to  have  Perrot's  operatic 
career  open  in  London.  With  the  novel  experience 
and  decided  success  of  his  1830  debuts  there  to 
encourage  him,  Perrot  made  himself  ready  for 
the  conquest  of  the  Paris  Opera — and  won  at  a 
bound. 

Within  a month  of  Perrot’s  Paris  Opera  debut, 
the  July  Revolution  dethroned  Charles  X and 
enthroned  Louis  Philippe,  with  the  usual  reper- 
cussions at  the  Opera.  It  should  be  remarked  (to 
our  mind  it  has  point),  that  it  was  under  and 
through  Pierre  Gardel  and  in  the  days  of  the 
ancien  regime  that  Taglioni  was  first  brought  to 
the  Paris  Opera  and  then  engaged  on  a long-term 
contract.  It  can  have  been  that  it  was  under  or 
through  Gardel,  on  the  recommendation  of  Aug- 
uste Vestris,  that  Perrot  first  signed  his  Opera 
contract.  In  any  event,  he  was  the  last  danseur 
noble  to  be  appointed  while  the  severe  old  rules 
of  the  Three  Categories  were  in  full  and  formal 
effect.  They  were  abolished  in  1832.  Taglioni  and 
Perrot  were  the  last  Paris  representatives  and  per- 
haps the  greatest  formally  to  be  recognized  there 
because  of  their  genre.  And  between  them  they 
so  increased,  expanded,  and  enriched  the  horizons 
of  la  danse  noble  and  so  irresistibly  commended 
it  to  their  generation,  that  it  took  its  captors,  the 
Romantics,  captive,  and  secured  a new  lease  of 
life  that  has  served  it  to  the  present. 

Where  Perrot  spent  his  conges  in  1831  and  1832 
is  not  known.  In  1833-34-35,  he  returned  regularly 
to  London  for  longer  and  longer  seasons.  He 
opened  the  1833  season,  16  Feb.,  in  Faust,  in  a 
pas  de  deux  with  the  petulantly  seductive  Pauline 
Montessu,  as — of  course! — sylph  and  sylphide,  and 
took  his  farewell  30  March.  The  engagement  is 
memorable  because  Perrot  then  first  made  the 
acquaintance  of  one  with  whom  he  was  to  be 
closely  associated  for  many  years,  with  whose 


231 


career  his  was  to  be  remarkably  interlaced  1843- 
51,  for  whom  he  would  produce  some  of  his  great- 
est works  and  her  greatest  roles — Fanny  Elssler. 
They  were  exactly  of  an  age.  The  time  and  nature 
of  Elssler’s  London  debut  has  been  missed  by  all 
her  historians. 

In  1834,  Taglioni  and  Duvernay  opened  the 
London  season  (1  March).  The  former  left,  and 
Duvernay  took  over  her  role  in  Sir  Houn,  and  in 
this  Perrot  joined  the  company  (5  April).  The 
Times  found  Duvernay  well  received  as  “next — 
longo  intervallo  certanily,  but  still  next — to  Ta- 
glioni. M.  Perrot’s  dancin.g  is,  like  that  of  Taglioni, 
beyond  all  praise.  The  astonishing  feats  of  this 
danseur,  who  far  surpasses  all  that  ever  preceded 
him,  must  be  seen  to  be  believed.  Some  barbarians 
(our  readers  will  recollect  that  Saturday  was  the 
last  day  of  the  holyday  week)  encored  one  of  the 
most  difficult  passages  of  M.  Perrot,  in  his  pas  de 
deux  with  Duvernay.  He  did  repeat  it,  but  evi- 
dently with  great  distress,  and  once,  slipping 
through  sheer  exhaustion,  he  had  nearly  fallen  . . . 
(A  disquisition  on  encores  in  ballet  being  as  im- 
proper to  demand  as  would  be  encores  in  a drama, 
follows.)  . . . But  for  M.  Perrot,  we  hope  that  he 
who  has  not  only  no  equal,  but  who  is  a dancer 
to  whom  no  man  in  Europe  can  be  likened,  will 
remain  among  us  for  some  time  to  come.  We 
think  we  may  safely  promise  him  that  encores  of 
this  description  will  not  be  very  frequent  at  the 
King’s  Theatre.” 

This  Grand  Pas  de  Deux  was  also  danced  fre- 
quently by  them  as  a special  number  the  weeks 
following.  The  Elsslers  at  riving,  15  April,  Perrot 
was  featured  in  Pas  de  Deux  and  in  Sir  Huon, 
Ln  Sylphide^  ^athnlie ^ and  Armide,  with  Fanny 
and  Duvernay  by  turn,  and  when  Taglioni  was 
again  added  to  the  company,  5 June,  he  partnered 
her  in  La  Sylphide  and  in  La  Chasse  des  N ymphes. 
He  danced  his  farewell  in  the  latter,  28  June, 
and  The  Times  enterd : “Af.  Perrot  appeared,  it 
was  said,  for  the  last  time.  We  hope  not,  because 
it  is  impossible  to  supply  his  place.” 

Those  two  years  were  of  exceptional  brilliance 
in  ballet  in  London  and  probably  mark  the  only 
occasions  anywhere  when  Taglioni,  Elssler,  and 
Perrot  danced  together  repeatedly  on  the  same 
bills  and  in  the  same  ballets.  London  never  again 
saw  all  three  together — never  again  saw  all  three 
in  the  same  season,  until  1847,  and  then  Taglioni 


and  Perrot  were  at  one  theatre  and  Elssler  was  at 
the  rival  Opera. 

Perrot  again  opened  the  London  season  in  1835, 
and  The  Times  remarked;  “Of  the  debutants  in 
the  ballet  of  Nina  the  most  prominent  was  Perrot, 
whose  knowledge  of  his  art,  combining  vigour  with 
elegance,  rapidity  with  grace,  is  perhaps  un- 
equalled, ...” 

Taglioni  made  her  seasonal  debut  28  May  in 
La  Sylphide.  She  was  lauded  as  always  and  The 
Times  reporter  noted  that  she  had  put  on  weight. 
He  continued:  “Her  pas  de  deux  with  Perrot  was 
such  a masterpiece  as  is  rarely  witnessed.  Each 
seemed  to  emulate  the  other,  and  both  se  sont 
surpasses.  The  applause  was  nearly  equally  di- 
vided in  favor  of  the  two  and  was  equally  de- 
served.” The  witness  is  one  in  both  capitals  on 
the  dancing  of  the  two,  though  Paris  never  saw 
Perrot,  only  Mazilier,  partner  Taglioni  in  La  Syl- 
phide. Probably  only  London  ever  did. 

Taglioni  and  Perrot  monopolized  attention  in 
ballet  in  London  that  year  and  were  continually 
together  in  “some  new  graceful  tours  de  force.  . . . 
We  should  think  (that  they  have)  pretty  nearly 
exhausted  what  imagination  was  capable  of  devis- 
ing” in  their  science,  delightedly  chuckled  The 
Times.  Taglioni  pere  even  produced  a new  ballet, 
Mazila,  especially  for  them — for  Perrot’s  Benefit! 
This  makes  strange  reading  after  the  Paris  reports 
of  bad  relations  professional  between  the  two  in 
1834  and  1835. 

The  inordinate  len.gth  of  Perrot’s  stay  in  Lon- 
don this  1835  season,  21  March  to  15  August,  five 
months,  plus  preliminary  rehearsals,  gives  one  to 
wonder  had  he  already  quit  the  Paris  Opera  early 
in  1835  or  when?  London  had  plainly  caught  a 
severe  case  of  perrotomania ; this  should  probably 
be  taken  into  consideration  when  puzzling  over 
what  happened  in  Paris  in  1835. 

This  first  phase  of  Perrot’s  London  career  ex- 
tends over  into  the  1836  season,  when  he  brought 
the  17-years  old  Carlotta  Grisi  on  from  Naples 
as  his  pupil  and  partner.  They  made  their  debut 
in  a new  pas  de  deux  in  Deshayes’  ballet,  Le 
Rossignol,  7 March.  Grisi’s  “reception  and  the 
applause  at  the  conclusion  of  the  pas  de  deux 
with  Perrot  were  enthusiastic.  Perrot  acquitted 
himself  with  his  usual  talent.”  Viewing  the  crowd- 
ed house  at  his  Benefit,  The  Times  opined  that 
“M.  Perret’s  estimation  in  this  country  could  not 


232 


Perrot  as  Mercure,  St.  Leon  as  Paris,  Taglioni,  Srahn  and  Cerrito  as  Les  Deesses 
London,  1846  (Collection:  David  Mann) 


in  Jugement  de  Paris, 


be  better  attested.”  As  to  Grisi,  “her  dancing  in 
the  Tarantella  with  Perrot  is  surpassed  by  nothing 
on  this  stage.” 

Moore  and  Beaumont  have  placed  Perrot’s  first 
tentatives  in  choreography  in  Vienna  the  Autumn 
of  this  year,  1836.  Whether  he  made  any  essays 
in  Italy  before  London,  we  do  not  know,  but  the 
Vienna  date  is  too  late  by  some  months.  Perhaps 
Perrot  composed  practically  all  his  and  Grisi’s 
specialty  numbers  this  London  season.  The  Taran- 
tella, “which  must  be  repeated  often  and  become 
popular,”  was  announced  as  his  work,  also  a 
Minuet  a la  Cour  to  Lully  music,  as  well  as  “the 
celebrated  Galop  de  Gustave  arranged  by  Perrot” 
for  the  ball-scene  in  Beniowsky.  Here,  in  any  event, 
are  his  earliest  recognized  London  attempts  in 
choreography  and  perhaps  the  earliest  to  be  found. 

Again  Perrot  (and  Grisi)  remained  on  to  the 
close  of  the  season  (6  Aug.),  then  neither  was 
again  seen  at  the  London  Opera  for  six  years. 


Why?  This  is  more  inexplicable  than  his  departure 
from  the  Paris  Opera.  But  certainly  Perrot’s  popu- 
larity in  London,  although  it  probably  had  noth- 
ing positive  to  do  with  his  severance  with  the 
Paris  Opera,  doubtless  left  him  little  worried  and 
full  of  hope  and  plans  when,  in  the  course  of 
events,  he  felt  his  position  in  Paris  to  have  been 
made  untenable,  resigned  and  withdrew. 

* •*■  * 

And  now  to  consider  the  first  and  chief  point 
at  issue  at  this  pass  in  Perrot’s  career:  Why  did 
he  quit  the  Paris  Opera  in  1835? 

Slonimsky  recalls  the  wormeaten  old  chestnuts 
of  the  cabal  against  male  dancers  (that  went  into 
effect  in  1832  and  never  ever  touched  or  could 
touch  Perrot)  and  Taglioni’s  jealousy  (long  over- 
come and  the  situation  accepted  in  good  grace 
both  in  Paris  and  in  London  by  1835) — only  to 
discard  them;  and  quite  rightly.  They  can  scarcely 
have  had  any  bearing  in  the  matter  in  1835  except 


233 


as  window-dressing  on  the  part  of  the  Opera 
management  to  cover  up  what  really  lay  behind 
the  scene. 

However,  for  Slonimsky’s  novel  insinuation  that 
Perrot's  radical  politico-social  choreographic  ideas 
then  played  a role  in  his  departure,  there  is  no 
shred  of  proof — but  plenty  to  the  contrary.  Down 
to  1835  Perrot  was  solely  a dancer.  His  first  tenta- 
tives  in  composition  still  lay  ahead  of  him.  More- 
over, there  is  not  a hint  of  such  an  angle  in  any 
of  Perrot's  later  choreographic  activities  at  the 
Paris  Opera  or,  for  the  matter  of  that,  during  all 
his  London  seasons,  1842-48. 

There  is  one  further  explanation,  ignored  by 
Slonimsky  but  cited  by  Beaumont,  that  needs  to 
be  remarked:  Money — or  should  we  say,  the  motif 
of  profit  and  reward,  because  that  was  the  world 
Perrot  lived  in?  “Partly  because  he  considered  his 
services  inadequately  rewarded,”  says  Beaumont, 
"Perrot  left  the  Opera  in  1835.”  He  has  old  con- 
temporary authority  for  the  explanation:  “Perrot 
was  not  able  to  obtain  a legitimate  price  for  his 
services,”  wrote  Briffault  in  1841,  “he  quit  the 
Opera.” 

Money  was  one  of  the  touchiest  of  points  in 
the  theatre  in  Romantic  times.  It  or  its  equivalent 
in  whatever  forms  is  seldom  a matter  of  indif- 
ference to  anyone.  4’he  Romantic  were  both  en- 
tirely matter-of-fact  and  entirely  cynical  about  it 
— certainly  in  the  international  world  of  the 
Opera.  They  considered,  and  so  did  their  audi- 
ences, that  a dancer  was  great  and  famous  ac- 
coiding  to  the  pay'  that  he  or  she  could  command 
and  get.  Recall  the  anonymous  Galerie  Theatrale 
writer  cited  a ways  back  and  his  “progression”  of 
Perrot's  earnings  as  “worthy  of  attention”  in  trac- 
ing the  route  of  his  fame. 

According  to  that  source,  Perrot  had  done 
phenomenally  well  for  himself  upon  reaching  the 
Opera.  When  'Veron  took  over  the  Direction 
(1831  ) Perrot  had  “by  leaps  and  bounds  seated 
himself  in  the  top  place  (among  danseurs)  where 
no  one  ventured  to  disturb  him.  It  is  a quite  nice 
position,  that  of  dieu  de  la  danse.  It  brings  Per- 
rot 20,000  francs  a year  salary,  plus  bonuses,  plus 
three  months  a year  leave  of  absence  that  he  knows 
how  to  exploit  ’ — in  London.  In  all,  he  figures, 
Perrot  then  earned  around  40,000  francs  ($8,000) 
a year.  If  that  would  be  fat  for  a First  Dancer 
today  (and  would  it?),  think  what  it  represented 
in  buying  power  in  the  1830’s. 


Perhr.ps  he  knew  whereof  he  wrote.  Perhaps  he 
allowably  e.xaggerated.  Cut  it  down  roundly,  and 
Perrot  in  his  early  twenties  would  still  have  had 
$6,000/5,000  a y'ear,  half  of  it  from  the  Opera. 
It  is  not,  therefore,  apparent  that  Perrot  was 
either  underpaid  or  illpaid.  His  appainotments 
stood  well  in  comparison  with  I’aglioni’s  or  the 
Elsslers’.  He  had  no  cause  to  be  dissatisfied,  and 
we  doubt  that  he  was — under  Veron. 

It  is  curious  that  no  one  has  thought  to  remark 
that  Veron  and  Perrot  quit  the  Opera  practically 
together,  in  1835 — and  that  Perrot’s  every  “crise” 
with  the  Paris  Opera  coincides  with  a change  in 
management.  Veron  first  associated  Duponchel 
with  him  and  then,  in  August,  withdrew  and  Du- 
ponchel became  Director.  A change  of  manage- 
ment regularly  meant  re-negotiated  contracts. 
Veron  had  agreed,  when  he  had  taken  the  Opera 
over  as  a private  enterprise,  to  continue  the  con- 
tracts already  in  force  under  State  management; 
some  he  even  increased.  Not  Duponchel.  It  is 
common  knowledge  that  his  program  was  down 
on  principle. 

Those  cuts  were  the  trouble  at  the  root  of 
Taglioni’s  dislike  of  Duponchel  and  of  the  Elsslers’ 
studied  coolness  to  him.  It  is  known  that  the  latter 
consented  to  a cut  only  on  Veron’s  advice  and 
urgence  and  even  then  only  because  he  promised 
to  make  up  the  difference  to  them  out  of  his  own 
pocket,  and  did.  Castil-Blaze  blames  “des  plans 
de  maladroite  economic”  carried  out  by  Duponchel 
for  the  loss  of  Mme.  Cinti-Damoreau,  who  easily 
found  herself  a more  advantageous  contract  at 
the  Opera  Comique.  Perrot’s  departure,  there- 
fore, raises  no  question  of  bad  faith  or  a broken 
contract.  Could  the  Direction  have  offered  any 
charge  of  misconduct  or  irresponsibility  on  his  part 
to  justify  itself  with  the  public  for  his  loss,  it 
would  have,  and  in  short  order.  Perrot  refused  to 
take  a cut  and  left,  as  he  had  a full  right  to  do, 
his  old  contract  having  been  annuled. 

It  is  possible  that  when  Duponchel  opened  con- 
versations regarding  the  terms  of  a new  contract, 
Perrot  took  the  opportunity  to  broach  the  question 
of  choreography.  He  was  maturing;  he  was  25  in 
1835.  He  may  have  felt  that  he  had  to  break  into 
that  ultimate  reach  of  his  art,  both  for  his  own 
best  future  and  because  of  creative  upswellings 
within  him  impossible  to  resist.  In  the  light  of  his 
later  career,  the  idea  is  logical  and  compelling. 

Opportunity  to  compose  necessarily  impinged 


234 


upon  various  persons'  prerogatives  and  authority. 
Yet  as  piemier  danseur  noble  Perrot  would  have 
been  within  his  rights  to  aspire  to  creating  dances 
and  then  ballets  and  to  ask  written  guarantees  to 
that  effect.  In  the  last  issue,  the  Direction  would 
determine  what  form  a contract  would  take.  Slo- 
nimsky’s  idea  that  choreographic  ambitions  were 
involved  in  the  parting  of  the  ways  has  its  sound 
aspect. 

The  break  was  directly  and  probably  only  a 
matter  of  emoluments.  That  is  the  one  sure  and 
reasonable  explanation  that  runs  through  all  the 
more  reliable  contemporary  accounts,  even  down 
to  1848.  De  Boigne  insinuates  that  Perrot  was 
“banished.”  It  may  be  that  Duponchel,  frustrated, 
never  forgave  Perrot  his  decision,  obstinately  with- 
stood all  later  demands  that  he  be  brought  back; 
but  that  is  something  else  again.  The  decision  was 
up  to  Perrot  in  1835.  He  refused  to  have  his 
dignity  as  an  artist  tainted  by  a cut  and  his  genius 
imprisoned  by  a refusal  of  choreographic  rights. 
He  had  already  reaped  all  the  fame  that  Paris 
could  give  him  as  a dancer.  He  flew  out  of  that 
suffocating  cage  by  the  open  door  of  a new  con- 
tract, 

■*■  * * 

The  very  next  year  saw  Perrot’s  first  tentatives 
in  choreography.  He  presented  with  success  vari- 
ous pas  in  London.  In  Vienna,  he  produced  his 
first  full-fledged  ballets.  'We  are  not  sufficiently 
familiar  with  Perrot’s  activities  in  Germany,  Sept., 
1836  on,  to  enter  them  here.  He  is  rejrorted  to 
have  choreographed  at  least  four  works  for  Vienna 
his  first  season:  The  Nymph  and  the  Butterfly; 
The  Rendezvous ; The  Neapolitan  Fisher;  and 
Kobold. 

According  to  our  notes  lifted  from  theatre  bills 
of  the  time,  Perrot  and  Grisi  made  their  Vienna 
debuts  as  “erstem  tanzer  der  grossen  Oper  in 
Paris  und  der  Dlle.  Grisi,  dessen  Zogling”  (pupil), 
29  Sept.,  1836,  in  Die  Nymphe  und  der  Schmet- 
terling,  the  first  performance  of  a “one-act  ana- 
creontic divertissement  by  P.  Campilli,  ballet  com- 
poser,” Grisi  as  the  nymph,  Thisbe,  and  Perrot 
as  a sylph.  Perrot  probably  composed  their  own 
dances,  but  it  is  a question  whether  the  ballet  was 
by  him.  Also,  24  Jan.,  1837,  they  made  their  first 
appearances  in  a newly'  staged  version  of  La  Syl- 
phide. 

As  to  Kobold,  a theatre  bill  of  8 March,  1838, 
announced  the  “third  time”  for  that  work,  which 


looks  as  though  it  were  a composition  of  that 
year.  It  still  ranks  as  Perrot’s  first  “grand  ballet." 

Eventually,  the  couple  proceeded  to  La  Scala, 
Milan,  for  14  guest  appearances  (Oct.,  1838)  and 
then  were  in  Naples  19  Nov.,  1838  to  12  Feb., 
1839.  During  this  latter  engagement  they  ap- 
peared as  the  top  primi  ballerini  in  pas  de  deux 
inserted  in  various  of  Salvatore  Taglioni's  composi- 
tions, the  latter  being  maitre  de  ballet  en  titre  at 
the  San  Carlo.  Perrot  also  offered  two  ballets  of 
his  own  composition:  L’Appuntarnento,  ballo  ville- 
reccio  (Le  Rendezvous,  earlier  staged  in  Vienna) 
and  Un  Divertimento  di  Ballo,  a pastiche  of  spe- 
cialty numbers  put  together  for  their  Benefit  (4 
Feb.).  Here  we  have  found  the  earliest  clues  to 
those  “passo  d’azione”  later  to  be  a feature  of  all 
Perrot’s  works.  But  whether  this  was  a type  of 
dance-play  already  routine  on  the  Italian  stage, 
a novelty,  or  a feature  carried  to  new  lengths  by 
Perrot,  we  have  not  enough  information  to  pass 
an  opinion. 

This  season  is  ]3robably  representative  of  Per- 
lot’s  activities  during  these  years,  1836-39.  He 
and  Grisi,  always  together,  were  added  for  longer 
or  shorter  seasons  or  engagements  to  one  company 
or  another  as  Guest  Artists,  First  Dancers,  appear- 
ing mostly  in  special  numbers  and  mostly  dancing 
pas  choreographed  by  Perrot;  on  occasion,  Perrot 
also  presented  ballets  short  or  grand  of  his  own 
composition.  .At  least,  we  have  as  yet  found  no 
sign  that  he  took  over  any  troupe  for  a season  as 
its  ballet  master.  It  seems  he  was  about  to,  in  1839, 
but  the  venture  failed  to  materialize — through  no 
fault  of  his. 

After  12  Feb.,  1839,  we  have  next  caught  a 
vivid  glimpse  of  Perrot,  idle  between  projects,  in 
his  home,  42  rue  Richer,  on  address  that  he  re- 
tained for  a number  of  years  running;  perhaps 
his  permanent  Paris  address.  A rare  Perrot  letter 
preserved  in  the  Harvard  College  Theatre  Collec- 
tion was  brought  to  our  knowledge  by  its  Curator, 
Dr.  William  Van  Lennep,  who  has  kindly  per- 
mitted us  to  publish  it  here  for  the  first  time.  So 
far  as  we  know  it  is  the  first  Perrot  letter  to  be 
recorded.  Henry  Bunn  was  then  manager  of  the 
theater  royal  Drury  Lane,  London. 

[Translation)  “Paris,  20  March,  1839. 

“My  dear  Mr.  Bunn:  It  is  impossible  for  me  to 
agree  to  your  proposal  touching  the  four  perfor- 
mances a week;  such  a task  would  be  beyond  hu- 


235 


man  power.  Accordingly,  in  this  matter,  I cannot 
budge  from  my  last  demand  and  you  yourself  will 
be  able  to  judge,  presuming  that  we  come  to  an 
understanding,  whether  this  exigence  on  my  part 
is  just  or  unreasonable. 

“In  view  of  the  services  that  I hope  to  render 
your  enterprise,  my  demand  of  £100  per  week, 
far  from  being  immoderate,  is  no  more  than  very 
considerate,  and  I hold  by  it.  However,  desirous 
of  giving  you  a proof  of  my  goodwill  towards  you 
in  this  first  affair  (between  us),  I further  consent 
to  a sacrifice  on  my  part,  the  last  that  I can  make, 
with  regard  to  my  Benefit  Performance.  In  the 
first  place,  it  shall  be  in  addition  to  the  number  of 
our  (contracted)  performances  and,  in  the  sec- 
ond place,  I shall  divide  with  you  share  and  share 
alike  the  net  profit. 

“There,  my  dear  Mr.  Bunn,  you  .have  my  yes 
and  my  no,  according  to  how  you  may  consider 
these  final  conditions  favorable  or  otherwise.  In 
any  case,  kindly  inform  me  about  the  matter  as 
promptly  as  possible,  and  believe  me  . . . (signed) 
Jules  Perrot.” 


Perrot  and  Lucille  Grahn  in  Catarina,  London,  1846. 
(Collection:  George  Chaffee) 


When  one  recalls  the  sums  Bunn  paid  Duvernay 
in  1836  and  that,  in  1837,  the  four  Taglioni’s 
(father,  daughter,  son,  and  son’s  wife)  received 
£150  per  night,  Perrot’s  £100  ($500.00)  a week 
was  not  excessive.  The  letter  is  of  unusual  interest 
as  showing  what  terms  Perrot  could  command. 

It  is  also  of  interest  today  considering  what 
managers  in  America  take  for  granted  of  the 
greatest  dancers — as  many  as  nine  performances 
a week,  sometimes  in  as  many  as  three  ballets  a 
[ erformance.  Three  was  Perrot’s  limit,  and  3 to  4 
is  still  the  limit  in  the  best  theatres  of  ballet  in 
Europe. 

The  plans  must  have  been  concluded,  because 
Perrot  proceeded  to  London.  All  came  to  naught 
through  Bunn’s  bankruptcy.  (See  ‘Romantic  Ballet 
in  London,”  Dance  Index,  Sept.  1943,  p.  143.) 
We  know  of  his  trip  through  a letter  written  from 
London  by  Marie  Taglioni  and  published  in  the 
Revue  Musicale  (Dec.,  1921).  It  is  entered  there 
merely  as  “undated,”  but  internal  evidences  clear- 
ly determine  that  it  was  written  (say)  25-30  May, 
1839,  two  months  after  Perrot’s  letter.  We  trans- 
late the  pertinent  passage. 

“Perrot  is  here  footloose.  He  had  been  engaged 
by  Brunne  (Bunn)  who,  after  having  presented 
trained  animals  and  shilling  concerts,  has  gone 
bankrupt,  and  Perrot  has  his  pains  for  his  trip. 
Laporte  (impresario  of  the  London  Opera  where 
Taglioni  was  about  to  begin  her  engagement  and 
who  well  knew  Perrot  and  his  abilities)  would 
dearly  like  to  engage  him,  but  for  little,  and  he 
(Perrot)  is  not  to  be  had  for  nothing,  as  is  Guerra 
(Laporte’s  ballet  master  that  season),  who  has 
thrown  in  his  wife  for  good  measure,  and  I can 
assure  you  that  the  ‘good  measure’  is  nothing  to 
talk  about.” 

Taglioni  wielded  an  acrimonious  pen,  venomous- 
ly misrepresentative  of  Bunn's  real  efforts  and 
harsh  on  Guerra,  who  was  not  without  merit, 
though  no  match  for  Perrot.  But  for  Perrot  she 
shows  a healthy  respect  and  she  had  good  reason 
to  know  that  he  would  never  “be  had  for  nothing” 
nor  ever  needed  to.  However,  by  late  May  London 
journals  (Post,  Theatrical  Observer,  etc.)  were 
publicly  complaining.  The  Opera  ballet  was  weak 
hat  year.  Perrot  and  Grisi  had  been  in  London 
idle  for  two  months,  they  said  . . . due  to  Bunn’s 
failure.  Why  did  not  Laporte  avail  himself  of 
this  rare  talent?  Whatever  the  reason,  he  did  not. 

There  is  a persistent  vague  report  that  Kohold 


was  produced  in  London — some  say  by  Perrot  at 
Drury  Lane  in  1839.  We  have  been  unable  to 
find  any  trace  of  it. 

Then  we  lose  sight  of  Perrot  once  again  for 
another  six  months  or  so,  until,  like  a meteor, 
he  and  Grisi  suddenly  flashed  upon  Paris  in  the 
most  unexpected  and  irregular  fashion  early  in 
1840,  an  event  famous  in  ballet  annals  because 
of  its  eventual  illustrious  outcome. 

On  28  Feb.,  1840,  after  long  preparations,  Per- 
rot and  Grisi  appeared  as  the  sole  raison  d’etre 
(plus  Gavarni’s  fetching  costumes)  of  an  elab- 
orate musical  piece,  Z^ngaio,  and  they  had  all 
Paris  flocking  to  Antenor  Joly’s  Theatre  de  la 
Renaissance.  Later,  they  also  accompanied  the 
piece  on  tour,  appearing  in  Perrot’s  hometown, 
Lyon,  in  .August.  But  by  October  they  were  back 
in  Paris — ostensibly,  idle. 

* * * 

Moore,  Beaumont,  and  Slonimsky,  all,  in  one 
degree  or  another,  the  last  rather  heavily,  fall  for 
the  idea  that  once  having  left  the  Paris  Opera  Per- 
rot’s one  obsession  was  to  get  himself  re-instated 
there — a late  interpretative  twist  given  Perrot’s 
long  Paris  Opera  relations  by  Charles  de  Boigne’s 
gossipy  and  always  slightly  malicious  reminiscences, 
“Petits  Memoires  de  I’Opcra”  (Paris,  1857).  It  is 
little  critical  or  discriminating  to  allow  that  divert- 
ing fireside  chatter  the  dignity  of  serious  history. 

4'he  ins  and  outs  of  the  Paris  Opera  situation 
1840-41  and  of  Perrot’s  relations  there,  from  when 
he  began  his  determined  effort  to  secure  for  Grisi 
what  that  ballet  then  had  to  have,  a young  pre- 
miere danseuse  to  be  gradually  brought  to  the 
fore  beside  Elssler  (on  her  return),  to  substitute 
in  popular  favor  for  Elssler  while  absent,  and 
eventually  to  succeed  Elssler,  on  until  Perrot’s 
monumental  self-effacing  efforts  established  Grisi 
there  securely  with  Giselle,  are  well  if  fragmen- 
tarily  known. 

But  what  iota  of  proof  is  there  from  the  few 
known  facts  for  de  Boigne’s  gratuitous  aspersions 
on  Perrot’s  motives,  that  our  modern  historians 
should  both  echo  and  extend,  embroider  on  them? 
When  their  accumulated  presumptions  are  anal- 
yzed, it  becomes  clear  to  what  unworthy  ends  their 
acceptance  of  de  Boigne’s  premises  has  betrayed 
them — or  the  proprieties  of  history. 

In  the  first  place,  Perrot  had  all  he  could  do. 


pulling  every  possible  string,  to  land  Grisi  herself 
at  the  Opera  at  all,  let  alone  himself  clinging  to 
her  train.  Moreover,  just  a commonsense  survey 
of  the  European  scene  and  its  likely  aspirants  for 
the  Paris  opening  that  existed  should  tell  anyone, 
as  it  must  have  told  Perrot,  that  there  were  just 
two  possible  candidates:  Grisi  and  Cerrito.  And 
with  Cerrito’s  extraordinary  London  success  in 
1840,  to  cap  her  earlier  successes  in  Italy  and 
the  Germanics,  the  cards  might  have  seemed  all 
stacked  in  her  favor.  Then,  in  August,  Duponchel 
ceded  the  Opera  Directorship  to  Leon  Pillet.  No 
wonder  Perrot  went  back  to  Paris  that  Autumn 
and  gave  himself  up  to  the  one  ne.xt  and  most 
pressing  move  for  Grisi,  if  her  talents,  of  which  he 
was  confident,  were  to  receive  their  due  and  the 
highest  recognition. 

It  has  been  claimed  that  in  gratitude  for  her 
success  in  Giselle  Grisi  threw  Perrot  over  and  re- 
sumed her  maiden  name.  It  is  true  that  Grisi 
threw  Perrot  over,  but  who  can  say  when  she 
had  first  been  maritally  unfaithful  to  him  or 
when  Lucien  Petipa  first  swept  her  off  her  feet  for 
a spell?  But  regarding  her  name,  nothing  could 
be  farther  from  the  facts.  All  Paris  first  knew  her 
as  Mme.  Perrot,  and  so  had  their  Opera  world 
since  at  least  1838.  But  long  before  she  had  her 
first  Opera  contract  she  was  formally  being  intro- 
duced to  Pillet  in  a letter  still  extant  by  Louis 
Perrot  (a  homonym  and  friend  and  perhaps  a 
relative  of  Jules  Perrot  and  Director  of  the  Beaux 
Arts)  as  Carlotta  Grisi  and  she  appeared  thus  on 
Opera  bills  from  the  first  and  never  otherwise.  The 
change,  we  may  be  sure,  had  been  mutually  agreed 
upon  beforehand  as  advisable.  De  Boigne  sets 
down  any  “Mme.”  at  the  Opera  as  “contrary  to  all 
dance  traditions;  in  the  dance  there  are  only 
demoiselles.”  And  Perrot  knew  his  Paris  Opera. 

It  has  been  implied  that  Gautier  was  a trusted 
and  intimate  friend  of  Perrot,  working  hand  in 
glove  with  him  to  advance  Grisi  (whom  Gautier 
had  loved  on  sight  and  would  love  all  his  life 
long) — only  to  keep  Perrot  from  getting  in  the 
Opera  so  that  Gautier  could  press  unhindered  his 
suit  with  Grisi.  Also,  that  having  won  Garlotta’s 
intimacy,  Gautier  set  up  house  with  her  sister, 
Ernesta,  by  whom  he  had  two  children — and  so, 
on  and  on.  The  gods  of  The  Ring  are  moral  hu- 
man beings  beside  what  such  scandalmongerings 
would  make,  of  Perrot,  Gautier,  and  the  Grisis.  How- 
ever bohemian  their  lives,  can  anyone  know  their 


237 


histories  and  think  that  a one  of  them  was  that 
type  of  person,  let  alone  that  all  of  them  were 
complaisant  about  it? 

It  has  been  charged  that  Adolphe  Adam,  the 
composer,  and  a great  friend  of  the  Grisi-Perrots, 
was  used  to  get  Fillet  to  ignore  Coralli’s  preroga- 
tives and  authority  (and  Mazilier’s  and  Albert’s 
too),  and  to  secure  Perrot  to  compose  Grisi’s 
dances  in  Giselle.  So  Fillet,  “well  aware  of  Per- 
I'ot's  ambition,’’  tricked  him  into  collaborating 
without  charge  on  Giselle  because,  “having  one 
maitre  de  ballet,  Coralli,  already  in  his  employ, 
he  (Pillet)  was  not  disposed  to  incur  the  addi- 
tional expense  of  engaging  another.” 

It  was  and  is  common  knowlerge  that  Perrot 
had  composed  ALL  Grisis’s  pas  at  the  Opera  from 
her  debut  in  February  right  on.  Giselle,  her  first 
major  role,  merely  continued  what  Coralli  and 
all  concerned  had  agreed  to  or  perhaps  even 
wished  from  the  first,  and  it  was  certainly  quite 
according  to  precedent — if  Perrot  was  agreed,  as 
he  was. 

But  what  indifference  to  the  known  Opera  set- 
up! Pillet  had  not  merely  one  official  ballet  master 
and  choreographer,  but  three,  as  quite  routine  at 
the  Paris  Opera — Coralli,  en  titre,  since  1831; 
Mazilier,  his  1st  .Asst.,  since  1839;  and  a 2nd  .Asst., 
probably  .Albert;  not  to  mention  a half-dozen  other 
men  of  proven  ability,  as  Barrez,  Deshayes,  etc., 
on  the  staff  of  school  and  company. 

Moreover,  it  is  difficult  to  see  where  Perrot 
could  have  been  fitted  in  or  superadded,  either 
as  a regular  dancer  or  as  a regular  choreographer, 
in  1841,  or  that  he  fatuously  imagined  he  could. 
But  it  is  monstrous  to  find  him  glibly  set  down 
as  an  unprincipled  schemer  who  would  use  and 
cajole  his  fellow-artists,  all  of  whom  he  had 
known  well  a decade  or  more,  and  all  working 
in  collaboration  with  him  for  Grisi’s  success  (as 
they  did ) , only  to  knife  one  of  them  when  he 
judged  the  moment  right  and  the  other's  back 
was  turned.  For  once  Grisi  was  engaged  (and 
Elssler  procrastinating  her  American  stay  indefi- 
nitely), everybody  would  seem  to  have  cooperated 
also  in  furthering  her  prospects  and  to  have  con- 
sidered Perrot  as  the  one  man  ideally  fitted  to 
show  her  off  to  best  advantage — and  in  both  they 
were  well  advised.  It  is  equally  improper  to 
manufacture  out  of  thin  air  low  subterfuges  and 
unworthy  motives  for  everybody  else  concerned. 


as  though  Perrot  were  any  novice  at  that  house 
to  be  slyly  taken  advantage  of  and  to  no  re- 
ward. 

It  has  been  complained  that  having  been  in- 
considerately brushed  aside,  Coralli  turned  around 
and  usurped  sole  honors  as  the  choreographer  of 
Giselle,  suppressing  Perrot’s  name  from  poster 
and  libretto.  That  Coralli  had  general  oversight 
and  a large  hand  in  Giselle  is  admitted.  That 
Perrot  then  had  no  official  status  at  the  Opera, 
was  there  on  suffrance  for  Grisi’s  best  interests, 
must  be  equally  admitted.  That  Giselle  (like 
many  Romantic  ballets)  was  a collaboration  cho- 
reographically  is  also  well  known.  .Albert,  also, 
we  should  say,  undoubtedly  had  a choreographic 
finger  in  it,  although  no  modern  study  of  that 
ballet  so  much  as  mentions  him.  This  was  com- 
monplace, in  Paris  as  elsewhere,  while  instances 
of  more  than  one  choreographer  named  on  Paris 
Opera  librettos  are  exceedingly  rare. 

What  was  the  convention  regarding  libretto 
credits  there?  Lifar  has  clarified  this  point.  The 
musical  composer  and  the  author  of  the  libretto 
of  a ballet,  as  of  an  opera,  both  had  their  royal- 
ties guaranteed  and  the  principal  dancers  had 
their  feux  (bonuses)  per  performance.  The  chore- 
ographer had  a yearly  salary  and  no  bonuses.  Yet 
he  was  a prime  necessity  in  the  practicalities  of 
any  ballet  libretto,  as  well  as  in  the  endless  re- 
hearsals of  a new  work  to  be  staged  there.  By 
tacit  standing  agreement  and  convention,  the  au- 
thor shared  royalties  reaped  with  the  choreogra- 
pher named  on  the  libretto.  Corali,  in  general 
charge  and  direction  of  Giselle  was  the  only  cho- 
reographer who  could  officially  figure  there.  ( In 
London  the  next  year,  Deshayes  and  Perrot  shared 
honors,  just  as  had  Taglioni  and  Guerra,  the 
former  for  the  “action”  the  latter  for  the  ’’dances" 
in  Taglioni’s  La  Ghana.  That  was  London  pro- 
cedure— and  both  composers  were  regular  mem- 
bers of  the  company;  in  Paris,  Perrot  was  not.) 

Perrot's  large  share  in  Giselle  was  never  any 
secret.  Paris  reviewers  were  at  pains  to  mention  it 
with  praise.  Perrot  could  not  have  felt  his  ef- 
forts in  any  way  slighted  in  this  detail. 

In  brief,  throughout  this  whole  Parisian  inter- 
lude of  1840-41  there  is  no  indication  that  Perrot 
had  any  ulterior  designs  of  his  own  upon  the 
Opera  and  plenty  to  suggest  that  his  one  aim  was 
to  secure  Grisi  an  engagement  there  and  then  to 


238 


see  her  successfully  launched.  It  is  a gesture  that 
does  him  honor;  why  derogate  from  it,  especially 
when  all  the  rest  of  his  life  shows  him  to  have 
been  personally  modest  and  endlessly  generous 
to  do  his  best  by  every  dancer  put  into  his  hands? 

Incidentally,  is  it  to  be  thought  that  Perrot’s 
Paris  Opera  efforts  for  Grisi  had  nothing  to  do 
with  his  (and  her)  re-engagement,  after  a six 
years’  hiatus,  at  the  London  Opera  the  next 
year? 

» * » 

And  now  to  jump  to  Perrot’s  one  more  and 
final  relation  with  the  Paris  Opera. 

From  1842  to  1848  Perrot  presided  over  the 
London  Opera  ballet  and  gave  it  the  most  bril- 
liant era  in  the  long  history  of  the  art  at  that 
institution.  Imagine,  if  you  can,  that  for  eight 
years,  with  the  exception  of  Giselle,  so  largely  a 
Perrot  work,  not  a single  Paris  Opera  ballet  was 
brought  to  the  London  Opera.  On  the  contrary, 
Parisians  could  not  believe  their  ears  when  they 
heard  of  the  state  of  ballet  in  London.  Under 
Perrot,  the  suburb  and  annex  practically  stole  the 
show  from  the  mother  house,  while  continuing  to 
enjoy  visits  of  its  best  dancing  talent,  plus  the 
other  superb  talent  that  Perrot  attracted  from 
elsewhere.  Perrot  could  be  content  without  Paris. 
Paris  became  obsessed  with  the  thought  of  Perrot 
and  what  he  could  do  for  it. 

Slonimsky  fails  to  remark  that  Perrot  ever  offi- 
cially returned  to  the  Paris  Opera.  He  is  dramatic 
at  the  expense  of  well-known  facts  and  even  of 
his  own  sources.  “The  doors  of  the  Paris  Opera 
closed”  on  Perrot  in  1835,  and  that  temple  “re- 
mained an  unattainable  dream  for  the  rest  of  his 
life.”  However,  everybody  else  knows  that  Perrot 
returned  in  1849.  What  might  lie  behind  the  bald 
event,  no  writer  has  suggested. 

Once  again,  the  various  elements  involved  arc 
too  numerous  and  tangled  to  unravel  here.  They 
really  cover  five  years  (1847-52)  and  three  Opera 
Houses  (Paris,  London,  and  St.  Petersburg)  and 
touch  decisively  upon  the  careers  of  three  famous 
choreographers  (Perot,  Mazilier,  and  St.  Leon,  the 
last  just  26  in  1847  and  a budding  choreographer 
destined  to  succeed  both  Perrot  and  Mazilier  in 
both  Paris  and  St.  Petersburg). 

The  first  event  took  place  in  London.  Between 
the  1846  and  1847  seasons  there  the  Opera-world 
exploded — chiefly,  it  was  said,  because  of  undue 


favoritism  shown  the  ballet  by  Lumley.  1847  saw 
rival  Opera  establishments  in  London.  Without 
hauling  down  his  sails,  Lumley  sought  to  tack 
with  the  wind.  Not  Perrot.  1847  and  1848  he 
eased  himself  off  the  London  scene. 

Then,  in  Paris,  in  July,  1847,  Leon  Pillet  re- 
signed, a bankrupt  and  his  enterprise  a shambles. 
“The  agony  of  the  Opera,”  de  Boigne  calls  it, 
with  “neither  troupe  nor  repertory”  left — another 
of  his  amusing  exaggerations.  Duponchel  returned 
once  again,  with  Nestor  Roqueplan,  as  co-man- 
agers.  The  house  was  closed — for  renovations.  Re- 
ports and  rumors  flew  thick  and  fast. 

To  stick,  to  one  journal,  the  Revue  et  Gazette 
Musicale  announced  ( , 1847)  : “(The  Opera) 

is  busily  engaged  on  a Grand  Ballet  to  be  pro- 
duced by  Perrot  for  which  Adolphe  Adam  has 
written  the  music.”  It  is  possible  that  Perrot  even 


Perrot  in  La  Filieule  des  Fees,  Paris,  1849 
(Collection:  George  Chaffee) 


re-appeared  there  and  danced,  when  the  house 
re-opened,  to  judge  from  caricatures  of  that  Au- 
tumn, but  we  have  found  no  surer  proof.  How- 
ever, it  was  not  Perrot,  it  was  Arthur  St.  Leon, 
with  the  sparkling  Cerrito  on  his  arm,  and  a satchel 
full  of  Pugni  scores,  who  came  (20  Oct.)  to  prove 
the  ballet  sensation  of  the  season.  After  some 
guest  appearances,  they  left  for  other  parts. 

Coralli  had  presented  his  last  ballet  (Ozai)  in 
April,  1847,  and  retired  shortly  after,  perhaps 
with  Pillet’s  departure.  Mazilier  automatically  suc- 
ceeded him,  though  he  produced  nothing  until 
16  Feb.,  1848 — charming  Griseldis,  with  Grisi, 
only  to  have  the  ballet  and,  apparently,  its  chore- 
ographer, fall  victims  of  the  Barricades  a week  or 
so  later.  Louis  Philippe  was  unseated  and  the 
brief-lived  2nd  Republic  ushered  in.  That  .August, 
it  was  Mabille  who  offered  his  first — and  only — 
ballet  at  the  Opera,  Nisida.  That  October,  St. 
Leon  returned  to  Paris  to  dominate  the  next  three 
years — except  for  Perrot.  But  both  belonged  to 
an  interregnum. 

During  Jan. -Feb.,  1848,  Perrot  was  in  Milan, 
with  Elssler,  staging  his  famous  Faust.  Revolu- 
tionary disturbances  broke  out  there.  Elssler  was 
hooted  and  hissed  off  the  scene,  being  Austrian 
and  in  an  untenable  situation.  When  Perrot  came 
north  we  do  not  know;  he  reached  London  only 
in  May,  perhaps  via  Paris  in  its  libertarian  frenzy. 

And  then,  when  the  London  Opera  closed,  24 
Aug.,  1848,  Perrot  headed — straight  for  Russia, 
whither  Elssler  and  Pugni  were  also  bent.  ( Perrot 
may  have  been  a convinced  “democrat”  but  as 
a Frenchman  he  scarcely  acted  like  one  at  that 
phase  of  France’s  history,  and  it  is  as  good  as  sure 
that  he  then  already  had  accepted  a Paris  Opera 
commitment  to  return  there.)  It  is  doubtful  that 
one  of  those  three  had  a previous  Russian  con- 
tract, when  they  suddenly  and  all  unexpectedly 
turned  up  in  St.  Petersburg;  it  is  known  that  Els- 
sler did  not.  However,  such  ballet  personalities 
turning  up  practically  together  in  St.  Petersburg, 
that  had  not  entertained  a distinguished  foreign 
celebrity  in  ballet  for  five  years  past,  and  that 
made  a company  in  themselves,  was  more  than 
could  be  resisted,  and  to  be  given  a showing 
there  was  to  conquer. 

Nevertheless,  that  December,  that  same  Paris 
journal  published  a laudatory  biography  of  Perrot 
by  Julien  Lemer,  also  claiming  that  “His  successes 
have  indeed  appeared  a sufficient  gauge  for  the 


future  to  the  Administration  of  the  Opera  to  seek 
to  engage  him  . . . and  it  is  entirely  to  be  expected 
that  his  reign  will  bring  back  the  glorious  days 
of  the  dance  and  of  choreography.  . . . After  tco 
long  a conge,  Perrot,  who  has  been  engaged  for 
more  than  a year  past,  is  at  last  to  return  to 
Paris.  He  has  placed  himself  at  the  disposition  of 
the  Opera.” 

There  is  too  much  smoke  here  these  two  years 
running  to  be  no  fire.  Suspicion  becomes  convic- 
tion when,  on  the  indubitable  success  of  his  Rus- 
sian venture  1848-49,  Perrot  quit  St.  Petersburg 
and  came  to  Paris  and  produced  a ballet  at  the 
Opera. 

Grisi  was  also  a factor  in  the  situation.  Her 
Opera  contract  had  expired  with  1848  and  had 
not  been  renewed.  By  mutual  agreement,  she  had 
remained  on  a month  to  month  basis  in  1849. 
Was  she  too  awaiting  developments?  It  was  for 
her  that  Perrot  created  La  Filleule  des  Fees,  8 
Oct.,  1849,  to  an  Adam  score,  with  himself  and 
L.  Petipa  also  in  principal  roles.  Her  last  as  her 
first  Paris  success  Grisi  owed  to  Perrot. 

Perrot  danced  little  in  the  piece.  Paris  was 
amazed  to  see  him,  after  all  these  years  and  vivid 
memories  of  his  pure  dancing,  “to  be  content  now 
to  tread  the  earth  and  to  mime  his  role  as  Alain 
with  an  ability  of  the  first  order.  Who  would  ever 
have  thought  that  Perrot’s  countenance  would 
have  become  so  e.xtremely  expressive  and  elo- 
quent?” Here  was  one  of  his  greatest  conquests 
of  his  volatile,  whimsical  yet  devoted  and  enthu- 
siastic native  audiences.  He  was  only  39  years 
old,  yet  there  were  Parisians  who  could  think  back 
20,  yes,  25  years,  to  when  they  had  first  seen  this 
famous  man  on  their  stage. 

Nevertheless,  the  event  was  to  prove  but  as  a 
gesture  in  duty  bound.  The  week  of  4 Nov.,  the 
same  journal  announced:  “Perrot,  whom  an  en- 
gagement calls  to  St.  Petersburg,  has  filled  this 
week  for  the  last  time  the  role  he  created  in  the 
ballet  of  his  composition.  La  Filleule  des  Fees. 
His  soiree  d’adieu  was  crowded.  Happily,  Carlotta 
Grisi  remains  to  us  and  with  her,  the  ballet.”  But 
with  the  end  of  the  year,  Grisi  too  was  gone  for- 
ever from  the  Paris  Opera.  On  12  Feb.,  1850, 
St.  Petersburgh  saw  its  production  of  L’Eleve  des 
Fees  (as  the  ballet  was  there  superstitiously  re- 
named) presented  by  Perrot. 

Is  it  not  clear,  can  there  be  any  reasonable 
question  what  had  happened?  In  1847  Perrot  had 


240 


entered  into  an  engagement  with  the  Paris  Opera 
on  the  Direction’s  initiative,  agreeing  to  return 
there — sometime.  The  provisions  were  elastic,  be- 
cause Perrot  would  have  them  so  and  the  Direc- 
tion was  in  no  position  to  dictate  to  him.  Perrot’s 
reputation  was  unrivalled  Europe  over  by  1847. 
ALL  doors  were  open  to  him. 

Then,  the  success  of  his  Russian  venture  posed 
a problem  with  respect  to  that  Paris  commitment. 
Perrot  returned  and  discharged  his  minimum  un- 
dertaking to  the  letter.  After  that,  it  was  merely 
a question  of  the  more  attractive  offer,  and  a 
Russian  contract  was  undoubtedly  even  then  in 
hand — probably,  only  awaiting  his  signature.  Like 
London,  St.  Petersburg  could  and  would  pay  him, 
and  handsomely,  for  his  services.  As  usual,  the 
Paris  Opera  was  hardly  in  a position,  especially 
a that  time,  taking  affairs  of  State  into  considera- 
tion, to  do  better,  if  as  well.  Perrot  may  have 
known,  better  than  St.  Leon,  that  it  probably 
could  not  even  perform  in  the  long  run  what  the 
Direction  might  have  been  willing  to  undertake  to 
have  him  there.  In  any  event,  he  took  the  Russian 
cash  and  let  French  credit  go. 

De  Boigne  to  the  contrary,  Perrot  would  never 
sell  himself  either  to  the  devil  or  to  the  Paris 
Opera — except  at  his  own  price,  and  his  terms 
were  never  low.  That  was  the  one  reason  why 
he  originally  left  there.  That  was  probably  the 
only  reason  why  he  never  again  returned  there 
more  than  transiently,  despite  the  urgent  over- 
tures of  the  Direction  and  a contract  at  his  con- 
venience. On  what  other  possible  grounds  e.xcept 
money  would  Perrot,  for  a decade  a famous  dancer- 
choreographer,  ballet  master  to  Lumley,  and  a 
Frenchman,  have  turned  down  a dignified  appoint- 
ment at  the  Paris  Opera,  for  the  rating  (gloss 
though  it  was)  of  a premier  danseur  in  St.  Peters- 
burg? It  is  a not  unworthy  explanation  and  would 
seem  the  only  logical  one. 

Just  a tantalizing  word  on  a very  curious  mix- 
up  that  inevitably  ties  in  with  these  events.  Slo- 
nimsky  says  “from  1848  to  1859  (with  a short 
interval)  Perrot  worked  in  St.  Petersburg.  ...” 
Did  he  mean  that  interval  to  cover  the  Paris  trip, 
or  did  he  have  1852  in  mind? 

Turn  to  Beaumont’s  “History  of  Ballet  in  Rus- 
sia,” pp.  82-83.  Late  in  1851,  “Perrot,  feeling 
the  need  for  a respite  from  his  labours,  no  longer 
took  an  active  part  in  all  the  production,  and  his 
place  was  taken  by  the  Parisian  maitre  de  ballet 


Mazilier.”  However^  Mazilier  “remained  only  a 
year  at  St.  Petersburg  and  Perrot  was  re-engaged.’' 
(Italics  ours.) 

There  is  more  here  than  meets  the  eye.  Perrot’s 
first  years  in  St.  Petersburg,  especially  a period  just 
after  Elssler  left  in  1851,  when  Perrot  was  pro- 
moting Grisi’s  fortunes  there,  regardless  of  what 
Gedeonov  and  Andreyanova  might  wish,  were  not 
as  calm  and  unbroken  as  has  been  supposed.  More- 
over, as  our  chart  indicates,  Perrot  went  abroad 
and  produced  various  years  during  his  Russian 
tenure,  perhaps  every  year. 

Meantime,  with  August,  1851,  St.  Leon  pro- 
duced no  more  ballets  at  the  Paris  Opera  for  ma- 
ny years — until  1863.  Mazilier  again  emerged  fit- 
fully, then  went  to  Russia,  and  then,  in  Decem- 
ber, 1852,  he  produced  the  first  new  work  to  be 
presented  by  the  recently  re-named  “Theatre  Im- 
perial de  I’Opera,”  a minor  outcome  of  the  coup 
d’etat.  The  tough  old  hierarchical  organization  of 
the  Paris  Opera  ballet  had  weathered  through 
once  again! 

Charles  de  Boigne’s  atrabilious  sallies  on  Perrot 
deserve  to  be  treated  as  a third  old  chestnut  to  be 
remarked  only  to  be  discarded  today  as  more 
fantasy  than  a factual  view  of  history. 

What  the  Paris  Opera  lost  in  Perrot,  all  Europe 
gained.  But  for  its  parsimony  (and  perhaps  Du- 
ponchel’s  wounded  amour  proper),  England,  Italy, 
the  Germanics,  Russia,  never  could  have  enjoyed 
and  profitted  from  his  genius  both  as  a dancer 
and  as  a choreographer,  except  spasmodically  here 
or  there.  London  and  Paris  shortly  let  his  great 
creations  on  their  stages  fall  indifferently  into 
oblivion.  Russia  treasured  the  heritage,  as  circum- 
stances best  permitted.  That  is  its  great  claim  to 
our  lasting  gratitude  where  Perrot  is  concerned. 

Perrot’s  last  phase  is  not  unrelated  to  the  Paris 
Opera.  When  he  returned  to  Paris  in  1859,  a cer- 
tain fermentation  was  going  on  in  the  Opera 
ballet.  Taglioni  had  been  brought  on  as  a choreo- 
grapher to  revive  her  old  successes  and  she  also 
staged  Le  Papillon;  Borri  likewise  flashed  across 
the  scene.  Yet  the  greatest  of  French  choreogra- 
phers was  in  Paris  idle.  The  Opera  ignored  his 
existence.  Perrot,  who  lived  to  be  82,  was  in  the 
discard  at  50.  It  is  the  worst  miscarriage  in  the 
whole  long  history  of  the  Paris  Opera  ballet. 
Whether  even  Perrot  could  have  prevented  the 
decline  into  which  ballet  there  plunged  in  the 


241 


Perrot  and  Carlotta  Grisi  in  The  Naiad  and  The  Fisherman,  St.  Petersburg,  1851  (Collection;  George 
Chaffee) 


1860's,  being  a condition  contrary  to  fact,  who 
could  say? 

* * * 

PERROT’S  DANCING  DAYS 

Slnniinskv  gives  a false  impression  when  he  says 
that  “the  transition  to  production  work  is  tied 
up  in  Perrot's  career  with  his  gradual  withdrawal 
from  performing,  and  from  his  work  with  Fanny 
Elssler,  the  exponent  of  the  dramatico-realistic 
genre  in  dance.” 

Except  as  an  interpretative  genius  in  dramatic 
mime  and  dancing,  ideal  to  Perrot’s  needs  and  he 
to  hers,  and  except  as  two  artists  working  toge- 
ther years  on  end  mutually  stimulate  and  influ- 
ence one  another,  Elssler  is  not  to  be  seen  as  hav- 
ing had  anything  to  do  with  Perrot's  dancing  or 
choreographic  career. 

.4s  artists,  Perrot  and  Elssler  were  made  for  one 
another  and  they  knew  it.  She  was  his  ideal  and 
most  powerful  interpreter,  even  of  his  greatest 
roles  first  composed  for  others,  as  Giselle,  Esme- 


ralda, Catarina.  He  was  her  ideal  and  chosen 
choreographer,  and  when,  by  spells,  1842-51,  he 
was  not  with  her,  she  herself  or  through  Ronzani 
was  continually  offering  Perrot’s  ballets — doubt- 
less, with  Perrot’s  full  approval. 

Perrot’s  “transition  to  production  work”  fell  in 
1836-42  (years  when  he  scarcely  ever  saw  Elssler) 
and  his  richest  years  as  a choreographer,  1842-48 
(when  he  was  frequently  with  Elssler),  and  he 
never  danced  more  brilliantly  than  during  that 
stretch. 

To  that  period  belong  his  major  dance-mime 
roles — Albrecht  in  Giselle  (enough  said);  Matteo 
in  Ondine  (Pas  de  la  Rose  Fletrie)  ; Rubezhal  in 
Eoline  (Mazurka  d'Extase)  ; Diavolino  in  Catari- 
na (Romanesca);  Mercury  in  Le  Jugement  de 
Paris  (“and  the  almost  incredible  feats  on  the 
part  of  St.  Leon  and  Perrot,”  in  the  Times,  sounds 
like  a review  of  1833-34)  ; etc.  Of  course,  Perrot 
had  miming  roles  in  all  these  works,  but  they  were 
also  with  him  always  dance  roles — as  Slonimsky 


242 


would  be  the  first  to  admit. 

Or  take  a look  at  some  of  the  special  pas  that 
Perrot  danced  in  London — 1842;  Pas  de  Deux, 
with  Fleury;  Tarantella  with  Guy-Stephan;  Cachu- 
cha,  with  Cerrito;  Galop,  with  same — 1843;  Pas 
de  Quatie,  from  Le  Lac  des  Fees,  La  Castilliana, 
with  Elssler — 1845;  Polka,  with  Grisi — and  how 
many  others  might  be  mentioned! 

He  continued  to  dance  in  Russia;  was  under 
contract  there  as  a dancer.  There,  he  continued 
to  play  his  old  roles — in  Esmeralda,  Le  Delire 
d’un  Peintre,  Catarina,  Ondine,  Faust,  his  Mer- 
cury, etc.  In  1853  he  danced  a special  pas  de  deux 
with  Grisi  at  Andreyanova’s  Benefit  and  in  1854 
re-created  his  old  role  in  Faust.  So  it  goes,  down 
into  1858,  when  he  played  Seyd-Pasha  in  Le  Cor- 
saire,  his  old  role  of  Rubezhal  in  Eoline,  etc.  But 
in  Faust  that  year,  “as  Perrot  had  a sore  foot,” 
another  played  Mephisto. 

Once  Perrot  began  composing,  directing,  manag- 
ing a troupe,  he  broadened  out,  was  no  longer 
just  a dancer.  He  also  mimed,  and  as  the  years 
rolled  by,  mime  took  an  increasingly  larger  place 
in  his  performances.  But  he  never  withdrew  from 
performing — he  never  even  ceased  dancing — right 
down  to  the  end  of  his  Russian  period,  (1858) 
when  nearing  50. 

On  occasions  he  was  forcibly  kept  off  the  scene, 
and  that  “sore  foot”  of  1858  may  be  an  impor- 
tant clue.  We  have  come  across  it  time  and  again 
in  Perrot’s  career.  Thus,  back  in  1842,  at  the 
very  beginning  of  his  greatest  London  period,  his 
first  return  there  in  six  years,  the  opening  night, 
and  his  first  Albrecht  in  Giselle,  Perrot  had  a 
notice  posted  that  he  had  hurt  his  leg.  However, 
he  danced  that  taxing  role,  and,  said  the  review- 
ers, nothing  wrong  was  noticeable  to  the  audience. 
Again,  opening  night  the  next  year,  he  injured  his 
foot  while  dancing  with  Dumilatre  and  was  oft' 
the  scene  for  weeks.  Indeed,  the  very  fact  that 
his  absence  and  the  cause  of  it  was  remarked  in 
Russia  as  late  as  1858  is  in  itself  a good  indica- 
tion that  as  a rule  he  performed.  Was  this  a 
chronic  physical  weakness  the  result  of  some  seri- 
ous injury  in  his  early  acrobatic  days?  It  plagued 
him  for  years. 

By  vocation  and  by  avocation  Perrot  was  a 
dancer.  He  never  gave  up  performing  merely  to 
choreograph.  His  choreographic  inspiration  flowed 
out  of  his  own  bodily  expression  in  the  dance 


and  flagged  only  as  his  bodily  strength  to  perform 
flagged.  He  was  a trouper  to  the  last. 

* * * 

PERROT’S  MARRIAGES 

A word  that  must  some  day  be  expanded  should 
be  said  regarding  Perrot’s  marriages. 

When  Perrot  first  met  Grisi  she  was  already 
neither  an  unknown  nor  a minor  dancer,  but 
simply  a very  young,  very  immature,  but  pheno- 
menal dancer  of  recognized  great  promise,  already 
a prima  ballerina  in  the  best  Italian  theatres.  The 
season  of  1834-35  she  created  the  principal  roles 
in  two  new  ballets  at  the  San  Carlo,  Naples.  She 
was  announced  in  London  in  1836  as  “First  Danc- 
er from  the  theatres  royal  Milan  and  Naples.” 

The  earliest  public  indication  of  their  marital 
life  that  we  have  found  is  a Vienna  theatre  bill  of 
8 March,  1838.  That  Autumn  they  appeared  at 
La  Scala  as  the  “Coppia  Danzante  dei  Conjugi 
Carlotta  e Giulio  Perrot,’  ’and  they  came  to  Paris 
in  1840  as  Perrot  and  Mme.  Grisi-Perrot. 

All  early  and  most  modern  writers  (with  de 
Boigne  a notable  exception)  speak  of  the  pair 
as  married,  and  it  is  certain  that  they  themselves 
for  years  wished  the  profession  and  public  alike 
to  know  them  as  married.  Latterly,  the  nature  of 
that  marriage  has  been  called  into  question.  How- 
ever, one  is  rather  shocked  to  find  Beaumont  in 
1944  reversing  his  earlier  witness  and  coming  out 
with,  “Perrot  fell  in  love  with  her  and  induced 
her  to  become  his  mistress.”  It  is  less  a question 
of  bad  faith  on  either  side  than  of  a legal-reli- 
gious ceremony  and  no  more.  By  every  well-known 
evidence,  their  relation  had  the  veneer  of  respecta- 
bility and  the  decency  of  a common-law  marriage 
while  it  lasted  (to  1843,  says  Moore),  and  should 
be  treated  as  such.  If  one  cannot  merely  say  that 
they  were  married,  without  a word  as  to  the  now' 
current  report  of  the  nature  of  their  marriage, 
even  less  can  one  merely  set  down  that  Perrot 
seduced  Grisi. 

In  1944,  without  giving  any  source  references, 
Beaumont  reports  that  while  in  Russia  Perrot 
married  a young  dancer,  Capitoline  Samovskaya, 
Vv'ho  bore  him  two  children.  It  is  curious  that 
Slonimsky  is  silent  on  the  subject.  Did  Perrot 
bring  this  family  on  to  Paris  with  him  or  what 
kind  of  a marriage  was  it? 

Finally,  there  is  here  in  America  a report  by 
one  claiming  to  be  his  grand-daughter,  that  on 
returning  to  France  Perrot  married  a woman  of 


243 


minor  title,  retired  to  the  country’  in  Alsace, 
became  a country-gentleman-farmer,  and  had  four- 
children  of  this  marriage.  We  enter  the  report 
vaguely  for  what  it  may  prove  to  be  worth  and 
hope  to  see  it  gone  into  in  detail  at  some  time. 

LEOPOLD  LOUIS  ROBERT 

Slonimsky  remarks  the  direct  and  strong  influ- 
ence of  two  painters  on  Perrot’s  imagination:  Dela- 
croix and  Robert.  There  can  be  only  one  Dela- 
croix— the  great  Eugene.  But  there  are  many 
Roberts,  and  Plubert  is  the  one  that  might  instinc- 
tively come  to  mind.  We  have  taken  the  liberty 
of  adding  “Leopold  Louis”  in  parentheses  to  Slo- 
nimsky’s  te.xt,  being  certain  that  he  and  no  other 
is  the  Robert  meant.  This  talented  and  once  fash- 
ionable painter  was  born  at  Chau.x-de-Fonds  in 
1794  and  studied  under  Girardet  and  David.  Mel- 
ancholic from  a hopeless  love  of  some  years  for 
the  princess  Charlotte  Bonaparte,  he  took  his  life 
in  Venice  in  1835. 

Robert  s painting,  Corinne  improvisant  au  Cap 
Miscne,  loosely  mentioned  by  Slonimsky,  “achieved 


a great  success  at  the  Salon  de  1822”  (Benezit). 
To  read  Robert’s  history  and  the  titles  of  his 
paintings,  even  in  the  tabloid  form  alloted  him  in 
Benezit’s  Dictionnaire,  is  to  live  for  a spell  in  the 
pays  de  Perrot,  as  librettos  and  prints  picture 
his  ballets — in  the  world  of  Ondine  and  Catarina, 
of  Le  Pecheur  Napolitain  and  Giselle,  filled  as  the 
account  is  with  bandits  and  robbers  and  their 
families,  with  Mediterranean  fisherfolk  and  vine- 
gatherers  and  Neapolitan  villagers  en  fete,  and 
the  rest. 

ENVOY 

The  foregoing  notes  and  observations  have  been 
made  a I'improviste,  from  memory  and  vagrant 
notes  at  our  elbow,  under  pressure,  and  without 
time  for  special  research.  It  is  not  a role  we  fancy. 
If  they  shall  have  related  Slonimsky  s essay  to  its 
new  environment,  assisted  in  clarifying  and  harmo- 
nizing the  various  accounts  of  Perrot  now  current, 
and  brought  their  subject  up  to  date,  they  will 
have  served  a purpose.  Perrot  deserves  the  honor 
of  a volume,  a definitive  biography  copiously  il- 
lustrated. 


Perrot  and  Carlotta  Grisi  in  Le  Rossignol,  London,  1836.  (Collection:  George  Chaffee) 

244 


<02a®cgkaai^  ®1!  hj  -I’M®® 


Note:  Works  for  which  Perrot  merely  contributed  dance  numbers  in  the  original  production 

or  works  by  other  choreographers  later  staged  (doubtless,  in  revised  form)  by  him,  are  enclosed 
in  parentheses.  CBB  indicates  that  synopses  exist  in  Beaumont’s  Complete  Book  of  Ballets. 


(ALMA)— London,  1842  (Pas  only);  revived,  1843.  CBB 
APPUNTAMENTO,  L’ — see  Rendezvous 
(ARMIDE) — St.  Petersburg,  1855. 

AURORE,  L’— London,  1843. 

BAL  SOUS  LOUIS  XIV— London,  1843. 

CATARINA— London,  1846;  Milan,  1847;  St.  P.,  1849.  CBB 
(CORSAIRE,  LE)— St.  Petersburg,  1858.  CBB 
DEBUTANTE,  LA— St.  Petersburg,  1857. 

DELIRE  D’UN  PEINTRE,  LE— London,  1843;  Milan,  1844;  St.  Petersburg,  1848. 
(DIABLE  A QUATRE,  LE)— St.  Petersburg,  1851. 

DIANA  ET  END YMION  London,  1845. 

DIVERTIMENTO  DI  BALLO,  UN— Naples,  1839. 

ELEMENTS,  LES— London,  1847.  CBB 

ELEVE  DES  FEES,  L’— See  Filleule 

EOLINE — London,  1845;  St.  Petersburg,  1858.  SBB 

ESMERALDA,  LA— London,  1844;  Milan,  1845;  St.  Petersburg,  1848.  CBB. 
FAUST — Milan,  1848;  St.  Petersburg,  1854.  CBB 
(FILLE  DU  M.\RBRE,  LA)— St.  Petersburg,  1856.  CBB 

FILLEULE  DES  FEES,  LA— Paris,  1840;  St.  Petersburg,  1850;  Venice,  1845,  CBB 
(GISELLE)— Paris,  1841;  London,  1842;  (St.  Petersburg,  1842).  CBB 
GAZELDA — St.  Petersburg,  1853;  Milan,  1864. 

GUERRE  DES  FEMMES,  LA— St.  Petersburg,  1852. 

HOURIS,  LES— London,  1843. 

ILE  DES  MUETS,  L’— St.  Petersburg,  1857. 

ILLISUIONI  DI  UN  PITTORE— see  Delire 

ISAURA — see  Filleule 

ISLE  OF  THE  MUTE— see  lie 

JUGEMENT  DE  PARIS,  LE— London,  1846;  St.  Petersburg,  1851.  CBB 
KAYA — London,  1845. 

KOBOLD — Vienna,  1838  (?) 

LALLA  ROOKH— London,  1846.  CBB 
(MARBLE  BEAUTY,  The)— see  Fille 
MARCO  BOMBA— St.  Petersburg,  1854. 

(NYMPHE  UND  DER  SCHMETTERLING,  Die)— Vienna,  1836.  Pas  only? 
NAIAD  AND  THE  FISHERMAN,  The— see  Ondine 
ODETTE— Milan,  1847. 

ONDINE — London,  1843;  St.  Petersburg,  1851.  CBB 
PAS  DE  QUATRE,  Le— London,  1845.  CBB 
PAYS  ANNE  GRANDE  DAME,  La— London,  1844. 

PECHEUR  NAPOLITAIN,  Le— Vienna,  1836(?);  London,  1842. 

QUATRE  SAISONS,  Les— London,  1848.  CBB 
RENDEXVOUS,  Le— Vienna,  1836(  ?)  ;Naples,  1838. 

REVE  D’UN  PEINTRE,  Le— See  Delire 


245 


ROSE,  the  VIOLET,  and  the  BUTTERFLY,  The — St.  Petersburg,  1857. 
STATUE  DE  MARBRE,  la— see  Fille. 

(SYLPHIDE,  La) — Vienna,  1837;  London,  1845.  CBB 
SOIREE  DE  CARNEVAL,  Une — London,  1842. 

SOUCIS  DU  MAITRE  DU  BALLET,  Les— see  Jugemenl. 

I'ROUBLES  of  the  BALLET  MASTER,  The— see  Jugement. 

I WILFUL  WIFE,  The) — see  Diable. 

WOMEN'S  WAR,  The — see  Guerre. 

ZELIA— London,  1844. 


GRAND  PAS 

Perrot  composed  an  endless  number  of  special  and  grand  pas — seul,  de  deux,  etc. — 
individual  numbers  danced  alone,  inserted  at  will  into  some  ballet,  or  again,  assembled 
into  a divertissement;  or,  if  integral  parts  of  a ballet,  yet  a separate  gem  in  itself.  Thus, 
his  “Variation"  for  Taglioni  in  the  great  Pas  de  Quatre  she  used  as  a solo  number  for 
three  years;  others,  like  the  Pas  Strategique  in  Catarina  dozens  of  ballerinas  took  the  two 
worlds  over.  At  the  Paris  Opera,  Perrot’s  Grand  Pas  de  Deux  in  La  Favorite,  for  Grisi  and 
L.  Petipa,  became  a classic  chef  d'oeuvre  of  the  standard  repertory  and  lived  on  for  several 
generations.  As  an  aide  memoire,  we  list  a few  others  of  these  famous  specialty  number,  all 
from  London  programs. 

Tarantella,  pas  de  deux;  1836 — Galop  from  Gustave  III  (in  Beniowsky)  ; 1836 — Minuet 
a la  Cour  and  Gavotte  de  Vestris,  pas  de  deux;  1843 — Pas  de  la  Diane  Chasseresse,  pas  seul; 
1843 — “Great  Pas  de  Deux”  (for  Elssler  and  Cerrito);  1843 — La  Castilliana,  pas  de  deux; 
1843 — La  Polka,  pas  de  deux;  1844 — Pas  de  Fascination  (from  Alma);  1842 — Pas  des  Deesses 
(from  Le  Jugement  de  Paris);  pas  de  quatre;  1846 — Mazurka  d’Extase  (from  Eoline),  pas 
de  deu.x;  1845. 


Reference  Notes  on  Perrot’s  Ballets 

By  cross-references  from  our  full  checklist  with  Slonimsky’s,  Beaumont’s,  Moore’s,  and 
other  citations  of  Perrot’s  ballet,  much  apparent  confusion  and  contradiction  between  the 
various  lists  will  be  cleared  up.  It  is  a question  not  only  of  different  languages  but  also  of 
different  names  for  the  same  ballet.  Also,  some  sources  identify  as  new  ballets  in  Russia 
what  were  really  revivals. 

In  Beaumont,  The  Wilful  Wife  is  left  dangling  throughout,  and  in  his  “History  of 
Ballet  in  Russia,”  Satanella  (always  some  version  of  Le  Diable  Amoureux)  is  mistaken 
for  another  name  for  Le  Diable  a Quatre,  which  is  The  Wilful  Wife. 

Nobody  has  published  librettos  or  plots  of  a one  of  Perrot’s  apparently  new  creations 
in  Russia  (Nos.  8,  9,  11,  14,  15,  16,  in  Slonimsky’s  list).  We  strongly  suspect  some  of  these 
will  turn  out  to  be  versions  of  works  earlier  seen  in  the  West. 

Le  Delire  d’un  Peintre  (No.  1)  was  practically  a grand  pas  de  deux  d’action,  a dramatic 
tour  de  force  perhaps  comparable  to  Le  Spectre  de  la  Rose.  That  is  why  Perrot  and  Elssler 
could  present  it  so  shortly  after  theii  first  arrival  in  Russia. 

The  Troubles  of  the  Ballet  Master  was  probably  revived  for  Elssler’s  Farewell,  with  her, 
Grisi,  and  Andreyanova,  in  the  famous  Pas  des  Deesses.  It  was  perhaps  a full  version  of 
what  Perrot  had  first  planned  for  London  but  shortened  in  presentation. 


(insert  for  DANCE  INDEX,  Decemter,  19^5) 


WOHKIKG  CHART  of  PSHROT'S  CAREER 


YEAR  CHILDHOOD  and  'TEENS 

1810-Lyon  (to  when?)  Child  pantomimic  phenomenon  ca.  1522  on. 

1825-Paris, to  1827:  Galte  Theatre.  Acrohatic  pantomime  dancer. 

through  1829t  Porte  St.  Martin  Theatre.  Dancer  mime 


JAN-FEB.  MCH.  APR. 

MAY  JUNE  JULY  .AUG.  SEPT. 

OCT.  NOV-DEC. 

PARIS  OPERA  and 

LONDON  OPERA  as  DAMCER  ONLY  ^ 

1831  Paris ....(conge  spent  where?). 

1832  Paris....: ....;( Conge  spent  whiere?). 

1833  London. ......  Paris. ; : 

I835  Bordeaux  London. . . . 

i : : 

Naples. . 

MIXED  PERIOD  as  DANCER-CHOREOGRAPHER 

1836  Naples.,  londhn.... ; U...  i Yienna 

1837  Vienna  (to  when?)  Vienna 

1838  Vienna...: ; Munich  Milan:  Naples 

1839  Naples  (Paris  & London,  Idle)  Where?: 

ISHO  Paris:  Renaissance  Theatre  Lyon  ■ ;(Paris,  idle) 

184l  (Paris,  idle;  unofficially  ait  Opera)  After  Jjune  where? 


LONDON  OPERA  as  DANCER-CHOREOGRAPHER-BAL 
Xiondon.  .......... 

London. 

London. .......... 

London. 

London. . . . . ...... 

1847  Milan. ......  London. . . . . . 

1848  Milan. ..... , London. 


18U2 

1843 

1844 

1845  Milan. . . 

1846  (Rome?) 


LETMASTER 


St.  Petersh. 


1849  St. 

1850  St. 

1851  St. 
IS52  St. 

1853  St. 

1854  St. 

1855  St. 

1856  St. 

1857  St. 

1858  St. 


ST.  PETERSBURG  OPERA  (as 
Petershurg  . . . 

Petersburg. , . 


Petersburg. . . 
Petersburg?. . 
Petersburg. . . 
Petersburg^ . . 
Petersburg. . . 
Petersburg, . . 
Petersburg. . . 
Petersburg:. . . 


:(  Turin) 

(Trieste?;) 

(Milan) 


for  London) 

Paris... 

St.  Petersburg... 
St.  Petersburg. &.MDSCOW. 

St.  Petersburg... 
(Milan)  St.  Petersburg... 

5^.  Petersburg... 
St.  Petersburg... 
St.  Petersbiirg. . . 
St.  Petersburg,... 
‘ St.  Petersburg... 


1864  Milan. 


LATTER  YEARS 


NOTE:  We  must  thank  Dr.  Artur  Michel  for  assistance  in  amplify- 
ing our  Vienna  dates;  also,  for  information  on  Perrot  in  Bord- 
eaux, Lyon  (Zlngaro),  Munich,  Turin,  and  Trieste,  Our  Moscow 
entry  is  a guess;  we  feel  sure  that  Perrot  accompanied  Elssler 
there  and  probably  made  other  visits.  White  spaces  represent 
time  unaccounted  for;  however,  allowances  must  be  made  for  pre- 
paratory rehearsals  and  some  inactivity  between  long  engagements 

George  Chaffee 


hw  aia  BL  Fsi!®s‘steifl2‘g 

[Compiled  by  Yury  Slonimsky) 


1.  THE  ARTIST'S  DREAM 


1 Act 


Score;  C.  Pugni  — 19  Oct.,  1848 


2.  ESMERALDA 

3 Acts 

” ” ” — 21  Dec.,  1848 

3.  CATARINA 

3 Acts 

” ” ” 4 Feb.,  1849 

4.  LA  FILLEULE  DES  FEES 

4 Acts 

” ” ” — 12  Feb.,  1850 

5.  THE  NAIAD  AND  THE  FISHERMAN 

3 Acts 

” ” ” — 30  Jan.,  1851 

6.  TROUBLES  OF  THE  BALLET  MASTER 

Gala  Ballet  Divertissement 

2 Scenes 

” ” ” — 6 Feb.,  1851 

7.  THE  WILFUL  WIFE 

Libretto  by  Mazilier,  whose  production 
plan  was  partially  utilized  by  Jules 
Perrot. 

4 Acts 

” C.  Pugni  and 

Ad.  Adam  — 14  Nov.,  1851 

8.  THE  WOMEN’S  WAR  or  THE  AMAZONS 

OF  THE  9th  CENTURY 

4 Acts  — 

Score:  C.  Pugni  — 11  Nov.,  1852 

9.  GASELDA  or  THE  GYPSIES 

2 Acts 

” ” ” — 12  Feb.,  1853 

10.  FAUST 

3 Acts 

” ’’  ” — 2 Feb.,  1854 

11.  MARCO  BOMBA 

1 Act 

” ” ” ^ 23  Nov.,  1854 

12.  ARMIDE 

Libretto  by  St.  Leon,  staged  by  Jules 

Perrot  who  utilized  certain  elements  of 

St.  Leon’s  composition. 

4 Acts 

” ” ” — 8 Nov.,  1855 

13.  THE  MARBLE  BEAUTY 

3 Acts 

” ” ” — 19  Feb.,  1856 

14.  LA  DEBUTANTE 

1 Act 

” ” ” — • 17  Jan.,  1857 

15.  THE  ISLE  OF  THE  MUTE 

3 Acts  — 

Score:  C.  Pugni 

and  Labarre  — 7 Feb.,  1857 

16.  THE  ROSE,  THE  VIOLET,  AND  THE 
BUTTERFLY  (Divertissement) 

1 Scene  — 

- Score:  Unknown  — 8 Oct.,  1857 

17.  LE  CORSAIRE 

3 Acts  — 

Score;  Ad.  Adam  — 12  Jan.,  1858 

Libretto  by  St.  Georges  and  Mazilier. 
Perrot  utilized  elements  of  Mazilier’s 
plan  who  had  staged  the  ballet  in  Paris. 

18.  EOLINE  ou  LA  DRYADE 


(Interpolated 
numbers  by  C. 
Pugni.) 

4 Acts  — Score:  C.  Pugni 


6 Nov.,  1858 


ERRATUM:  The  caption  on  paqe  217  should  read;  "Perrot  and  Carlotta  Grisi  in  Kobold.  Vienna. 
1839  (Collection  Lillian  Moore ) 


247 


January 
Feb. -March 

April 

May 

June-July-Aug. 

September 

October 

November 

December 


published  the  following  articles  in  1945 
THE  BLACK  CROOK  by  George  Freedley 

GEORGE  BALANCHINE  ISSUE  by  Balanchine,  Edwin  Denby,  Lincoln 
Kirstein,  Agnes  DeMille 

NIJINSKY  AND  TIL  EULENSPIEGEL  by  Robert  Edmond  Jones 
CATALOGUE  OF  DANCE  FILMS  by  George  Amberg,  Intro,  by  John 


GEORGE  WASHINGTON  SMITH  by  Lillian  Moore 

HANS  CHRISTIAN  ANDERSEN  AND  BALLET  by  Joseph  Cornell 

BALLET  IN  BRITAIN  1934-1944  by  Arnold  Haskell 

MARC  CHAGALL  BALLET  DESIGNS  for  Aleko  and  The  Firebird 

JULES  PERROT  by  Yury  Slonimsky,  translated  by  Anatole  Chujoy. 
With  Epilegomena  by  George  Chaffee 


January 
Feb. -March 

April 

May 

June-July-Aug. 

September 

October 

November 

December 


Dance  Index  publishes  articles  of  these  general  categories: 

1.  Monographs  on  an  individual  dancer  (Mary  Ann  Lee,  G.  W.  Smith) 

2.  Catalogues  of  dance  prints  (American,  British,  French) 

3.  Repertory  lists  of  national  companies  (Soviet,  British) 

4.  Personal  memoirs  and  notes  (Balanchine,  Robert  Edmond  Jones) 

5.  Social  dance  background  (Quakers,  19th  century  ballroom  dancing-masters) 

6.  Great  dance  performances  (Black  Crook,  Pas  de  Quatre) 

7.  Dance  painters  and  designers  (Tchelitchew,  Chagall) 

8.  American  Innovators  (Isadora  Duncan,  Denishawn.  Loie  Fuller) 

9.  Albums  of  Photographs  (Pavlova,  Nijinsky,  contemporaries  by  G.  P.  Lynes) 


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